Priorities On Hiatus as of August 2009
by phoebe2
Summary: Dent tries to punish Gordon for Rachel's death by harming his family. Dent's plan goes awry & the family is saved. As Barbara hugs her children & watches her husband race to save Batman, she questions his priorities - & begins to reconsider her own.
1. Unthinkable

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by DC Comics, various publishers, and Warner Bros., Inc. Any other owners, licensees, or those legally attached to the Batman name, image, etc. of whom the author is unaware are included in this disclaimer although not mentioned by name. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter 1 - Unthinkable

Barbara Gordon hurried the children into their sweatshirts and moved with them toward the front door. She grabbed her purse from the hall table, fished out her car keys and instructed the kids to wait on the steps while she locked the door. Finally ready to leave, Barbara got the kids settled in the car and backed out of the driveway.

"Mommy, where are we going?" Jimmy asked.

She stopped at the red light at the end of their street and looked at her son in the rearview mirror. "Daddy wanted us to go to another place; a place where there are other policemen waiting for us."

"Is Batman there?" the child was still captivated by the Batman.

"I don't know, honey," Barbara replied as she accelerated through the intersection and turned left in the direction of the address Ramirez had given her. "We'll find out when we get there."

"I want to go home," Maggie said quietly. At four, she wasn't very happy with disruptions in her routine. Being taken from her bed, dressed and put into the car definitely disrupted her routine.

"I know, darling," Barbara soothed. "We'll go home as soon as Daddy tells us we can. How's that?"

Maggie said nothing, hugging her stuffed rabbit to her tightly.

Barbara pulled into the parking lot of the address she had been given. Her first reaction was that there had to have been some kind of mistake. The building was still a bit too far away to be seen clearly and the glare from the street light behind her created a further distortion. She pushed the button to lower the window to ensure a clearer view and gently inched the car forward. When she had come close enough to the building to take a better look, she put the car in park. The street lights did not carry well to this area but in the twin beams of her headlights, Barbara felt a slight shiver at the scene before her. Bright yellow crime scene tape marked off the perimeter of the location. The once sturdy brick structure was merely a shell; some walls reduced to complete rubble while others still stood, menacing and blackened by the fire that had ravaged it. Barbara pressed the release button on the shift to put the car in reverse and leave when a metallic click sounded from just behind her left ear. She jumped slightly in surprise then turned in the direction of the sound. The sight that greeted her made her blood run cold. Harvey Dent, the left side of his face and head decimated by burns, held a handgun barely two inches from her skull.

"Mrs. Gordon, how nice of you to come," he rasped. "Why don't you take the children out of the car now and come with me?"

"No," she said. The gun was fully and cruelly pressed into the side of her head.

"I can't believe you'd risk the lives of your kids by refusing to comply with a simple request," Dent replied. "Let's go."

Barbara alighted from the car and opened the back door, scooping Maggie into her arms and gesturing to Jimmy to follow her. Maggie whimpered when she saw Dent standing there, point the gun at them and buried her face in her mother's neck. Jimmy came to stand quietly beside his mother. Dent looked at the boy closely, then gestured toward the dark, hulking form of the building. "After you, Mrs. Gordon," he said.

As they approached the building, Barbara's eyes darted back and forth, seeking some means of escape. Regrettably, there was none.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, stalling for time.

In response, she felt the hard nose of the gun press into the small of her back. "Move," Dent commanded.

They climbed a staircase that had once led to the bustling second floor of the warehouse. Now, that floor was a mere platform. A twisted steel pole rose up from the first floor and Dent pushed Barbara toward it. "Sit."

Barbara sat with her back against the pole and gathered her children close to her, arms wrapped around them protectively. A cell phone dropped into her lap, its weight startling her as it landed.

"Call him," Dent ordered standing over her.

"Whom?"

"Don't insult my intelligence. You _know_ who I'm talking about. Your _husband_," Dent sneered. "_Commissioner _Gordon. Dial it. I'll tell you what to say."

Barbara dialed Jim's cell phone; he answered on the second ring.

"Gordon."

"Jim, we're in trouble," Barbara said.

"Barbara, now calm _down_," Jim said.

'He's got the kids!"

"Hello, Gordon," Dent reclaimed the phone.

"Dent," Jim breathed. "Where have you taken my family?"

"To the place where _my _family died," Dent said, his voice breaking slightly on the last word. "If I were you, I'd get over here."

"Let's see just how much of a priority the three of you are," Dent taunted.

He had his answer less than 30 minutes later as they heard the sound of footsteps rapidly climbing the stairs.

As Jim emerged onto the platform, Dent struck him sharply on the back of his neck and the Commissioner went down hard onto the floor. He rolled over onto his back and rubbed the back of his neck. As Barbara watched him and listened to the dialogue between her husband and the crazed former District Attorney, her heart fell. They were going to pay the price for Rachel Dawes' death.

"Who's the person you love most in the world, Gordon? Your wife?" Dent held the gun against Barbara's temple and she closed her eyes. She did not want to die, but she would do so if it meant protecting their children.

"No?" Dent's voice cut through her thoughts – and her heart. _No?_ She felt the gun move from her temple and away from her. Barbara opened her eyes.

"We have a winner," Dent whispered, lifting Jimmy from her protective arm and taking him closer to the edge of what was left of the floor.

"No! Jim…make him _stop!_" Barbara heard her own voice cut through the night – desperate, bordering on hysteria. She looked at her husband. Tears stood out in his eyes and he reached out toward Dent in an appeal to let go of his son.

"You don't want to hurt the boy," Batman's hoarse growl came from the shadows and his form soon followed.

"It's not about what I _want_," the devastated man hissed. "It's about what's _fair_!" He shifted the gun and reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver coin.

Batman and Jim tried to explain how Rachel had come to die, stressing that they had decided to act, to minimize the Joker's influence; telling no one what was happening.

"Punish one of _us_," Batman said. "The boy is an innocent."

"Fine," Harvey said. "You first." He flipped the coin. "You lose," and he fired a single shot at Batman, who fell. Barbara covered Maggie's eyes and tried to soothe her.

"My turn," he placed the gun against his own temple then flipped his coin. _Heads_. "Looks like I live to fight another day, Gordon," he said, holding the other man's gaze while he lowered the weapon to Jimmy's head. His other hand grasped the boy's hair, keeping his head upright so Jim could clearly see the fear written there.

"_Jim!_" Barbara cried out.

"Tell him, Gordon. Tell your son it's going to be alright. Lie to him the way I lied," Dent ordered.

"It's going to be alright, son," Jim said gently, making his voice as even as he possibly could despite the tremors running through his body and the hot tears now streaming down his face. He thought he saw his son nod slightly, through his own tears.

"Harvey, I'm sorry about Rachel. That was my fault," Jim continued in the same soft voice, now tinged with desperation. "I'm to blame. But _please_, don't hurt the boy; if you have to punish someone, punish _me_."

Harvey tightened his hold on the small boy's hair, lifting it higher as he pushed the gun into his temple. "I'm about to."

An unexpected movement, a flash of black Kevlar and Harvey was hit broadside by the Batman. The force of the contact seemingly drove the trio over the side of the platform and Barbara cried out at the sight of Jimmy's blonde head disappearing from view.

Jim scrambled to his feet and rushed to the side as Barbara watched, crying helplessly. She could picture her son lying on the ground, crumpled, next to the fallen Knight and the Batman. She was stunned when Jim's voice pulled her away from the horrific mental image.

"Here, Barbara; take him. He's ok," Jim thrust Jimmy into her outstretched arm. "Are you and Maggie alright?" he peered at them both anxiously.

Barbara nodded.

"I've got to get down there. Stay here," Jim said, but the fact that he was already moving toward the staircase precluded any response from her.

Barbara had previously experienced the sensation of anxiety and grief turned to rage; Jim's recent staged death in an effort to capture the Joker was still sharp in her mind. She recognized those feelings now as she sat on the cold platform flooring with her children held tightly in her arms. His family had been put in mortal danger. His wife and children had been physically threatened and his son, in particular, had come very close to death. Now, in the aftermath, Jim had decided to leave them to check on the condition of the man who had endangered them tonight – as well as the condition of the man who had been endangering them for the better part of a year. Barbara felt her temper rise. They had heard the arrival of the back up police squad cars. The dogs were there. Jim could have stayed with his family – or at least have brought them down to a waiting car so they could be taken home.

Jimmy wriggled his way out of her arms and was standing where he could peer down at his father below. "Dad!" he was calling. "Dad, is the Batman ok?" Receiving no answer, the boy ran down the stairs, Barbara calling after him. He paid her no heed. Jimmy was enamored of the Batman and his father had always been his number one hero. There was no stopping him from his goal of reaching them both.

Barbara sighed and lifted Maggie's chin so she could see her face. The child's eyes were red-rimmed and still showed her fear in their depths. Barbara leaned down and kissed her. "Come on, sweetheart," she whispered, swallowing her anger. "We're going to find Jimmy and go back home. Ok?" Maggie nodded and gave her mother the ghost of a smile.

Barbara headed to the staircase and made her way down carefully, shifting Maggie to her hip and holding her tightly. When she stepped onto the scarred ground and walked further into what had been the parking area, she saw Jimmy standing with his father, looking off into the distance as the sound of sirens and barking dogs filled the air.

"Jimmy," she called and watched both figures turn toward her. Barbara saw Jimmy look up at his father then both hurried in her direction. Barbara felt her anger flare again and she worked hard to push it down. "Come along, Jimmy. We need to get back home; you and Maggie have been through enough and you need to get some rest."

Jim looked closely at her face. After ten years, he recognized her struggle against her own emotions. "Barbara?"

She walked over to their car, Jim walking alongside her. He opened the back door and took Maggie from her arms and settled her into her car seat, buckling her firmly in place.

"Daddy," the small girl whispered and Jim kissed her cheek tenderly, then the tip of her nose before straightening back up again and closing the door firmly. "Jimmy, get in the other side and buckle up, ok?" he called to his boy who was still craning his neck toward the street, undoubtedly trying to get a glimpse of the Batman. "Jimmy?" The boy turned when his father called his name a second time. "Ok, Daddy," he said, dutifully climbing into his seat beside his sister and clicking his seat belt in place.

"Why did you leave the house?" Jim grasped Barbara's elbow and led her toward the front of the vehicle: far enough away so the kids couldn't overhear them, but close enough that they could still see them in the back seat.

"I'm assuming you're going back to the station tonight," Barbara stated flatly.

"Barbara, there are things that must be seen to. Dent's dead. That's going to send some shockwaves through every part of this city – the criminal as well as the solid citizens. And, to add to the mix, the Batman has set himself up as the sacrificial lamb so Gotham can still have the positive image of Dent to hang onto. I have to be there," Jim's voice was almost pleading despite the steely resolve Barbara could see reflected in his blue eyes.

"Please know that I couldn't care _less_ what _the Batman_ has nobly sacrificed for us all. Despite the pedestal both you and your son have put him on, I consider him responsible for what's happened to us over the past ten days. That fiend – the Joker – came after us because he wanted to entice Batman to come out into the open. You fell once because of it and we damn near lost our son tonight – again because of Batman," Barbara whispered fiercely. "And _then_, as if all of _that _wasn't enough, you leave us in that godforsaken place to go down and _check_ on the condition of _Batman_. Perhaps moving your family to a waiting squad car so they could go home might have occurred to you." Barbara was crying now, an occurrence that generally accompanied a great swell of anger. She turned away from him and fumbled with her door handle. Jim stepped toward her and reached down to open the door for her. Barbara slapped his hand away and finally managed to open the door. She got behind the wheel and pulled her seat belt into place, sitting for a moment before turning the key in the ignition. The engine turned over; Barbara pressed the button on the door to lower the window.

"When you get back to your office tonight, you might want to have a conversation with Anna Ramirez," she said, staring straight ahead. "Ask her why she called me with instructions – supposedly from you – to come to this place tonight." Barbara turned and looked into her husband's shocked face before putting the car in gear and driving off.

XXXXXXXX

Jim threw open the door to the temporary offices of Gotham's Major Crimes Unit. When it hit the wall with a sharp crack, he had the attention of every officer and detective in the squad room. The Commissioner paused, hand on his hip and scanned the room. Finally, his gaze alighted on the one person he sought. He walked slowly to where she was hunched in her chair. Standing next to her desk and without turning around, Jim called out, "Given what went down in this city tonight, I suspect you all have things to do!" Slowly, the buzz of conversation and clack-clack of keyboards rose to the previous levels.

Jim leaned down. "Let's talk," he muttered. Ramirez slowly turned her head and Jim caught sight of a dark bruise on her cheekbone. "After you," and he stood to one side, allowing the younger woman to pass in front of him. When they were out of earshot of the others, Jim said, "Interrogation room one."

Once Ramirez was seated, Jim walked up to her and held out his hand – palm up. "Shield and weapon, Detective," he said quietly and with authority.

"I don't suppose you're interested in hearing what happened," Ramirez said as she placed her badge and handgun into Jim's hand.

Removing the clip from the gun and placing everything on the windowsill behind him, Jim turned to face the detective. "If you are referring to the fact that my family was taken from our home tonight and sent to face Harvey Dent at the warehouse where Rachel Dawes died – no. As I was there, I think I have all the facts. What I would like to know is why. I thought I could trust you. I'd like to hear why I can't."

Ramirez dropped her head into her hands. "Falcone got to me when my mother first got sick. I couldn't afford the doctors and the hospitals on my salary. He made it possible for her to get the care she needed. They'd pay for everything, he said, as long as I fed him pieces of information, made evidence disappear every once in awhile. I kept telling myself that I'd only help them once or twice, just until my mother got back on her feet, but…"

"But it got easier to take their money," Jim supplied.

"NO! Not like that! You have to understand. My mother gave up everything for me. She worked three jobs to support us after my father left. She never had a thing for herself. I think she had one pair of new shoes in ten years; I always came first. When she got sick, there was no insurance – and no one but me to take care of her. I _owed _her something, Commissioner. She is my _mother_! I couldn't turn my back on her when she needed me the most!" Ramirez gave Jim a look that begged him to understand.

Jim watched the young woman closely. He understood her commitment to her mother; he respected it. What he neither understood nor respected was the route she had taken to provide for her mother.

"It's all over," he said quietly.

"What will happen to me now?" Ramirez spoke in an almost emotionless tone; she knew there was nothing left to say. Jim Gordon was incorruptible; he would not tolerate what she had done.

"Internal Affairs will have someone here shortly. I've already called them. You should probably get yourself a lawyer, Anna," he added softly. "And think about any information you might be able to share with IAD that might help you…and us."

Gordon gathered up her weapon and badge and headed toward the door. He never spoke to her again, simply pulling the door closed softly behind him.

XXXXXXXX

Jim pulled his car into their driveway and cut the engine. It was well after 2:30 am and the house was dark. Wearily, Jim got out of his car locked it and walked up the steps to his door. A movement to the right of his doorway caught his attention and he drew his gun and turned in that direction.

"Rough night," the raspy voice commented, its owner stepping into the dim light.

Jim replaced the safety on his weapon and returned it to his shoulder holster. "In many ways, yes," he replied, adding, "You know, moves like that one will get you killed one day."

"Have you decided what you're going to do?"

Jim sighed. "Denounce you publicly to preserve Dent's image, isn't that what you wanted me to do?"

"Gotham needs him, even if it's only his past image and reputation," the Batman said quietly. "I'm expendable."

Jim nodded. "But needed, as well. Our jobs will be harder without you out in the open."

"I can still help you behind the scenes," Batman said. "I won't desert this city – not again."

"I believe you," Jim said.

"You should get inside to your family," Batman said – an uncharacteristic comment for him to make.

Jim thought for a moment, and then turned toward the shadows where Batman had stood. He was gone. Jim sighed. _Appear. Disappear._ At least _that _was consistent, although '_disappear'_ was likely to be the more prominent activity for the foreseeable future.

Jim turned back to the door and fit his key into the door lock. The house was silent as he made his way quietly down the hallway and made the turn toward the kids' rooms first.

Jimmy was lying on his side, his hand tucked under his cheek. Jim knelt down next to the child's bed and brushed his fingers over his soft cheek. He was reminded of the night he returned home after staging his death. He had come to his son's room that night as well.

Jimmy's eyes opened and he blinked sleepily a couple of times as his father's face swam into focus.

"Daddy? Are you ok?" Jimmy asked, his face concerned.

"Shh," Jim said, continuing to stroke his cheek. "I'm just fine. I wanted to make sure that _you_ were ok, too."

The boy nodded. "I'm ok. It was scary tonight," he added, his face flushing.

Jim felt his chest constrict a bit at the boy's confession. "It was," he agreed.

"Were you scared?" Jimmy asked his eyes wide.

Jim nodded. "Yes, I was scared," he confirmed. "Everything I hold most precious was in danger. I was afraid that I would lose you all."

"But you didn't," Jimmy said.

"No, I didn't," Jim agreed. "And I'm very grateful. I love you, son."

Jimmy smiled. "I love you, too, Daddy. Are you going back to work now?"

Inwardly, Jim winced. He knew how much time he spent away from his family and it bothered him tremendously. The reason for his absence, however, was significant. By working long hours, he was doing everything he knew to keep them safe.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," he whispered. "You should get back to sleep. It's very late."

"But tomorrow's Saturday. No school," Jimmy said, smiling. "Can we do something? You and me?"

"What about Mommy and Maggie?" Jim asked. "Shouldn't we include them?"

"Maybe later. Maybe first you and I could so something," Jimmy insisted.

Jim thought for a moment. "How about breakfast? We'll get up before the girls do and I'll take you down to Gotham Diner for blueberry pancakes. Deal?"

Jimmy's face lit up and his grin was huge. "Deal!"

Jim reached down and hugged the boy. "I love you," he said sincerely. "Get some sleep."

"Love you, too," Jimmy told him. "'night, Daddy."

"Goodnight, son," Jim rose and left the room.

Maggie was curled up in a ball, pillow scrunched up against her headboard and all the covers kicked to the foot of the bed. Jim smiled. He recalled one night last year when the little girl had crawled into bed with her parents after what she solemnly described as a "nightscare". Jim was black and blue the next morning after the "kickboxing" match he experienced with his daughter. Apparently, in the absence of his shins, Maggie's bedclothes took the abuse.

He knelt next to her bed in much the same manner as he had with Jimmy. He straightened her covers and gently settled her back on her pillow, which he duly fluffed before she put her head down. Jim leaned forward and kissed her cheek and chuckled when she sleepily brought her little hand up and scratched at where his moustache had just been.

"Tickles," she murmured, opening her blue eyes and blinking at her father.

"Don't you like it when Daddy kisses you?" Jim asked, smiling.

"Moostash tickles," she said, patting his cheek absently as her eyes, so like his own, were beginning to droop again.

"I love you, Maggie-mine," Jim whispered, using the nickname he'd given her the day she was born.

"Love you, Daddy," she yawned and fell back into a deep sleep once more. Jim shook his head. Truly, wild horses could _not _drag his daughter back from sleep.

He rose, smiling as he caught sight of the snowman night light. She refused to allow anyone to replace it and it always made him feel warm inside to think of it.

He walked quietly down to the opposite end of the hallway and his own bedroom. Once there, he crossed into the bathroom, washed and brushed his teeth before returning to his darkened bedroom and undressing quietly. Removing his glasses and setting them on his bedside table, Jim settled under the covers and turned toward Barbara. Her back was to him, but he still spooned up against her back, sliding his arm over hers where it rested against her stomach. He placed a soft kiss on one shoulder where the strap of her nightgown had slipped down.

"Are you awake?" he asked softly. Receiving no answer, he sighed. "Ok. Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about tonight. I could have done it better and I'm sorry if you thought you weren't as important as the job was. I love you; I love the kids…and, I'm sorry." Still no response. Perhaps she really _was_ asleep.

Jim settled down against his pillow and closed his eyes. Just as he was dropping off, he felt Barbara shift against him, turning to face him and settling as close to him as she could. In response, Jim wrapped his arms around her tightly and kissed her hair. "Good night," he whispered.

Soon, the only sound in the room was their even breathing.


	2. Fallout

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by DC Comics, various publishers, and Warner Bros., Inc. Any other owners, licensees, or those legally attached to the Batman name, image, etc. of whom the author is unaware are included in this disclaimer although not mentioned by name. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter 2 – Fallout

Barbara awoke to a dark room and the feel of her husband's embrace. His breath was warm on her forehead and the edges of his moustache tickled her where his lips rested against her skin. Carefully, Barbara shifted slightly and lifted her head to see the digital reading on the alarm clock on Jim's bedside table. Three o'clock; she groaned inwardly.

"What's wrong?" Jim's sleep-roughened voice asked, his arms tightening further around her.

"Nothing," she replied, instantly. "Go back to sleep."

He opened his eyes and blinked myopically. "That's never good," he murmured with a small smile. He removed one arm long enough to turn toward his night stand and grab for his glasses. Once Jim could see clearly, he propped his head up on his hand and gazed down at his wife. "We've been together long enough that I know when something's wrong. You weren't really asleep earlier." It wasn't a question.

Barbara looked at him steadily. "No; I heard you."

"And…"

"And, it's the second time in ten days that you've apologized to me for something that endangered our family; something you realized after the fact that you could have 'handled better'," Barbara's voice was more sad than angry; more regretful than bitter.

"When you pulled Jimmy up and brought him to me, I thought you'd stay with us – or bring us somewhere you knew was safe. Instead, you left to check on the Batman. _He_ was your priority." She paused then added quietly, "_We_ should have been."

Jim closed his eyes briefly. The Batman protected them all – including his family. How could he _not _have checked on him after he dropped from the side of the building? He posed the question. "Dent acted alone; you all were safe. I wouldn't have left you there if I didn't know that. How could I _not _have checked on him, Barbara? He'd just saved our son…"

Barbara sighed. "I know, Jim; I do. He saved Jimmy. He saves Gotham on a regular basis. Did it ever occur to you, however, that he also _attracts_ the criminal element he needs to save us all _from_?"

"That's not entirely fair, you know," Jim admonished softly. "Gotham had become overrun with criminals _before _Batman showed up."

"Maybe; but they weren't necessarily coming after _you_ – or _us_. I can't believe I ever thought the Falcone crime family was the worst it could get," Barbara responded.

"Never tempt 'worse', Barbara," Jim said reaching over and brushing a lock of hair away from her eyes. "It will come in your door carrying with it more than you feared."

"I've already been confronted with my worst fear," she whispered in response. "Twice. Once when Gerry knocked on our front door and again tonight when Dent held a gun to our son's head. I didn't tempt anything and they still happened."

Jim leaned down and captured Barbara's lips with his own, tunneling his fingers through her hair gently. When she didn't respond, he broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. "You're so angry you can't kiss me?" he asked softly.

"I'm not angry," Barbara whispered back, lifting her hand and brushing the backs of her fingers over his cheek then, "Do you still love me?"

Jim's brow furrowed and he turned his head quickly and kissed her fingers before she could withdraw them. "Of course I love you. How can you ask me?"

She shrugged and tears formed in her eyes as he watched her. "When we were first married, I felt like you would do anything to be with me. When we were still in Chicago, you treated me like I was important to you; like I mattered."

"You did; _you do_," Jim tried, but it was as if he hadn't spoken.

"But then we moved here and the kids were born and you started spending more time at the office than you spent at home," Barbara stopped, vaguely wiping at her eyes. "And now, you're so seldom here."

Jim sighed. "Barb, you _know_ what it meant – to both of us – when I was hired here. It meant a fresh start without all the innuendo and lies hanging over us. They took a chance on me when few would have done it." He paused, leaning down and kissing her gently. "And you believed in me enough to put the past behind us and start again. You're not doubting me, are you?"

Barbara shook her head. "No, not like that. I trust you."

Jim felt his throat constrict. "And I will never betray that trust; I love you, Barb. There's no one but you. You know that, don't you?"

Barbara nodded, threading her fingers through his hair and gently urging him forward. She kissed him tenderly. "I do know," she responded after she had broken the kiss. "I just hate that you're never here. You're missing so much of the kids' lives, too. That's time you can't get back, you know."

Jim nodded, sadly. "I know that. But I want to have a long future with you and the kids – longer than Jimmy's next soccer game or the dance recital Maggie has next week. The long hours are my attempt at having that future. If we can lock up lunatics like this Joker guy – _and _the Falcone gang, we'll be closer to it."

Barbara shook her head. "Criminals in Gotham are like sharks' teeth," she said. At Jim's confused look, she added, "There are so many of them that they come in layers – rows, if you want. When one falls out of line, another just moves in to take its place. I'm afraid that this is what will happen. More and more of these fiends will head to Gotham to take on the Batman. And you and he will work together to bring them down; and the stories will grow and spread. And after all of _this_ and all of the sacrifice, there will be no end to it. And the _next _knock on the door will be the real one. And we will have never had the time together that we've promised each other."

Jim gathered her into his arms and held her tightly. "Sweetheart," he murmured. "First of all, you can't assume the future. You'll drive yourself crazy trying to guess what it holds. What I _do _know is that the future I want isn't going to happen by itself and I'm doing the only thing I know of to make sure we have it. It doesn't mean I like it." Jim leaned back so he could see Barbara's face. "And now, now that we have to consider the Batman responsible for the mayhem Harvey Dent wreaked on the city, he will be the focus of the department and we will have to appear to treat him as any other criminal we track and capture. He'll help us as he can, but for the most part, we will again be working alone. Will it attract more criminals? Possibly. Will I have to keep working these hours? Probably. But I'll keep doing it because it's my job and because someday I might not have to miss as much time as I do now." Jim took a deep breath. "I'm not doing this because I don't want to be with you, you know. You keep me grounded; you're what's real in my life – you and the kids. That's why I can't stop fighting, Barb; it's why I _won't_ stop."

Barbara said nothing for several moments, contenting herself with simply looking at his face – open, vulnerable, as it had been when he was pleading Dent to spare Jimmy's life. "I love you," she said finally, her voice quiet but firm.

Jim searched her eyes then cleared his throat softly. "I'm relieved to hear you say that to me. I'd begun to think that maybe you'd had enough." He leaned down and kissed her. "And that would have been a very bad thing for me, because I love you, too – very much."

Barbara smiled as she reached up and removed her husband's glasses. "Show me," she whispered and received a slow smile from Jim in return. "With pleasure," he murmured as he moved over her.

XXXXXXXX

A few hours later, it was the weak dawn sunlight slicing through the gap in their curtains that awakened Jim. Barbara was wrapped around him, face buried in the side of his neck and sleeping soundly. Jim smiled, running his hand down the smooth skin of her back and remembering how sweet their lovemaking had been. He had meant it when he told her that he loved her and that he'd never betray her trust. It was the truth; he'd learned that lesson the hard way. He turned his head and dropped a soft kiss on the top of her head. Barbara murmured something unintelligible and turned over. Smiling, Jim rose quietly and walked across the room to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, he emerged, having showered and shaved; with a towel tied around his waist, he headed for the dresser to pull out some clothing.

"Good morning, Commissioner," Barbara said quietly, a smile in her voice as she continued; "I believe you're out of uniform."

Jim turned to find her watching him. "Well, there would be a good reason for that. I'm not on duty at the moment – and I haven't actually _worn _a uniform for quite some time, have I?"

Barbara smiled. "A small point given the situation."

Jim laughed softly, enjoying the moment – one that had, regrettably, become far too rare for them. Tension; _that _had become the overriding emotion in their marriage over the past months. Jim prayed that it did not reassert itself.

"So, what has dragged you from bed so early on a Saturday morning?" Barbara asked, propping her head on her hand as she watched her husband dress in jeans and a GCPD sweatshirt.

Jim walked over to her side of the bed and sat on the edge as he slipped into his socks and a pair of loafers. "Well, there's this young man who's about … oh, this high," he held his hand up, palm down, at the point where the top of Jimmy's head would reach. "And he asked me if we could do something today – just the two of us. I promised him blueberry pancakes at the Gotham Diner."

Barbara felt her eyes fill, even as she smiled. "'Just the two of you', huh? No room for 'the girls'?"

Jim's blue eyes crinkled at the corners. "It's like you were there; _that's _what _I_ asked him." He chuckled softly. "He informed me that we could do this and come back and do something with you and Maggie later on." Jim turned and grabbed Barbara's free hand. "These are the moments I'm fighting for, you know. This is what I was talking about last night."

Barbara squeezed his fingers gently. "I know. Go. I'm sure your son is already up and dressed and waiting for you. Maggie and I will struggle along without you for awhile."

"Barb, I might have to check in at the office later on. With everything that happened last night, I'm sure the mayor will want to huddle about what we're going to say to the general public," Jim looked at her. "I'm sorry, but…"

Barbara let go of his hand and pressed her fingers against his lips. "Shh, it's ok. I get it. We'll be fine. I'd have been shocked if you _had _stayed away from the precinct all day. Maybe you can make it home for dinner with us, yes?"

Jim smiled and kissed the tips of her fingers. "Depends," he murmured against them.

Barbara raised one eyebrow and dropped her hand to his knee which she squeezed lightly, making him chuckle. "And what might it depend on, Commissioner?"

Jim rose and took a step back from the bed before answering. "The menu. If you make that chicken casserole you made the other night, I might have to grab a sandwich at the office…" and he made a break for the door, barely closing it behind him before his pillow hit the wood. He started down the hallway then smiled as a thought hit him. He retraced his steps to their now closed bedroom door. Turning the knob and opening the door a crack, he spoke loudly enough for her to hear him,

"Missed me," and with that, he turned and hurried down to Jimmy's room.

XXXXXXXX

Opening the door to his son's room, Jim poked his head in to find the boy exactly as Barbara had predicted: sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed and waiting.

"Ready?" he said and received a nod and a brilliant smile from his son in return.

"Let's go," Jimmy said, happily, grabbing his jacket from the coat stand in the corner and joining his father in the hallway. The two made their way out the front door, Jim pausing the make sure the lock slid back into place before making his way to the car. Once they'd both buckled into their seats and were on their way, Jimmy spoke.

"Did Mommy wake up when you left?" he wanted to know.

Jim smiled and nodded. "Yup, she did. Wanted to know why I was getting up so early on a Saturday."

Jimmy looked out the window at the passing scenery. "She probably thought you were going to work, right?" His face was wistful.

Jim looked in the rearview mirror at the small boy and his heart tightened. "Well, I'm not sure. She was pretty happy we were going out to breakfast, even though she and Maggie weren't invited."

Jimmy smiled. "Did she mind?"

"Oh, I don't think so," Jim replied. "I told her it was all your idea, though." He watched as Jimmy's eyebrows rose and his eyes grew wide. "Hey, what could I do? I didn't want her mad at _me_!"

"Daddy!" Jimmy laughed.

"Good thing she wasn't mad, huh?" Jim smiled.

A few moments later, Jim pulled into a spot near the diner and he and Jimmy made their way to a booth at the far end of the small eatery. As they slid into the booth's cracked leather seats and pulled menus from between the napkin holder and the sugar dispenser, Jim felt a greater sense of contentment than he'd allowed himself to feel for quite some time. He was here, with his son – for something as simple as blueberry pancakes early on a Saturday morning. It might all go to hell tomorrow, but for now, he knew this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

"Commissioner," the gray haired waitress greeted Jim; her familiarity the byproduct of the many late night, informal strategy sessions he and his team had held in this diner, over bottomless cups of strong coffee. "And who is this handsome young man?" she asked, smiling.

Jim returned her smile. "Good morning, Frances. This is my son, Jimmy," he introduced.

Jimmy smiled and extended his hand. "Hello."

Frances shook his hand. "Glad to meet you," she said warmly. "Your father has come in here many times with his officers. It's nice to see him here with a member of the family."

She looked back at Jim. "I'll bring the coffee pot, Commissioner. Are you ready to order?"

Jim nodded. "We'll have the blueberry pancakes and a glass of milk for my boy, thanks."

Jim took the menu from Jimmy and put them both back where he had found them. He glanced over at the boy. "You remember last night when I came into your room and we talked for a few minutes?"

Jimmy nodded. "It was pretty late," he said.

"Yes, it was. You asked me if I was going to go back to work, do you remember that?"

Again, the boy nodded. "You had to go back to work last week, remember? When you came back after you saved Batman."

"Yes, I did," Jim agreed. "Jimmy, I don't like spending time away from you – or Mommy or Maggie. There's nowhere I'd rather be than with you guys."

Jimmy looked puzzled. "I know, Daddy. You have to work, though. You keep us safe."

Jim nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Fortunately, Frances brought their breakfast at that moment.

"Thanks," Jim murmured as the older woman set their plates in front of them.

"Enjoy your breakfast," she said, putting the bill on the table next to Jim's plate. "Let me know if you need anything."

They ate silently for a while then Jimmy leaned toward his father and whispered, "We don't really think Batman is a bad guy, right, Daddy?"

Jim set his coffee cup back in its saucer. "No, son; we don't think that way because he's _not_ a bad guy. He's allowing the city to remember Mr. Dent before the Joker hurt him."

"Why?" Jimmy pushed another bite of pancake through a puddle of syrup before bringing the fork to his mouth.

"Well, Mr. Dent was a good man who believed that all the criminals who lived in Gotham needed to be brought to justice. In fact, he worked very hard to make sure that happened. The city believed in him and because they believed in Mr. Dent, people began to have hope. They began to believe that it was possible to have a safer city. If they knew what Mr. Dent did yesterday, they might lose that hope. If they didn't continue to believe that Gotham could be safer someday, they'd stop working to make it happen," Jim explained. "Do you understand?"

Jimmy nodded. "But isn't it just as bad for people to stop believing in Batman?"

Jim raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Well, we think so, don't we? But, Batman is kind of mysterious and people don't really know what to think of him. Mr. Dent was the District Attorney, so people knew what his role was. He also didn't wear a mask; that sort of thing makes people nervous, I guess."

Jimmy shuddered. "I wish Mr. Dent had worn a mask last night," he said quietly.

Jim reached over and put his hand on his son's arm. "I'm so sorry that you went through that last night," he said sincerely. "I would have given anything to protect you from that."

"I know that," Jimmy said. "But it was still ok in the end; except for Batman."

Jim sighed. "Well, maybe that will turn out ok in the end, too." He looked over at his son's plate and saw that he'd polished off every morsel of his pancakes. "Did you have enough to eat?"

Jimmy smiled and nodded. "They're my favorite."

"Mine, too. Finish up your milk and we'll head home," Jim told him.

"Are you going to the office today, Daddy?"

"For a little while. After last night, there are going to be things to take care of," he responded. "But I'll come home as soon as I can; and definitely for dinner."

Jimmy put his glass down and smiled. Jim shook his head and tossed him a napkin. "You look like one of those milk commercials with that moustache," he said, smiling at his son.

Jimmy giggled and wiped his mouth. "I'm ready to go."

Jim left some bills on top of the invoice and slid out of the booth. As they left, he caught Frances' eye and waved. "Thanks," he called out, gesturing back at the table they'd just left.

As they pulled out into the street, Jim's cell phone rang. The Mayor. Jim sighed. At least he'd gotten breakfast with Jimmy before reality came crashing down. He raised the device to his ear. "Gordon," he said and braced himself for the summons he was sure would follow.


	3. The Past Invades the Present

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by DC Comics, various publishers, and Warner Bros., Inc. Any other owners, licensees, or those legally attached to the Batman name, image, etc. of whom the author is unaware are included in this disclaimer although not mentioned by name. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: This story is based on characters and characterizations depicted in the Nolan version of the Batman universe. I am not well-versed in the original, comic book depiction of any of its characters. Due to this, "Priorities" will largely be AU in content, although some second-hand detail may tie in loosely with comic book canon.

Chapter 3 – The Past Invades the Present

Jim entered the very well appointed office of the Mayor some thirty minutes later and, at the other man's invitation, took a seat in front of the massive desk. Mayor Anthony Garcia, young, ambitious – and honest – had a strong desire to lead Gotham away from its recent reputation as a haven for the criminal element. While Jim trusted him, his brash demeanor could be annoying, as demonstrated by the Saturday morning summons to his office.

"Gordon, I called you here to discuss what happened last night," Garcia wasted no time once Jim was seated. "Dent's death has this city in an uproar, even though no one knows what really happened on that roof." The official paused, clearly waiting for Jim to expand on the detail he already knew. Jim mentally rolled his eyes. _Not happening_, he thought to himself.

"The Batman has declared himself an enemy of Gotham City," the mayor continued. "He has claimed responsibility for the deaths of five people yesterday. I want to know what you're going to do to apprehend him."

Jim nodded. "The vigilante known as the Batman will be arrested on sight," he commented lightly. "We will follow every lead we receive, sir, but I don't have the staff to beat the bushes looking for him _and _pursue our current roster of cases as well."

Garcia huffed. "Make sure all leads are followed, Gordon. I don't want Harvey Dent's death to go unpunished."

Jim felt his temper begin to rise but managed to keep his face expressionless as he nodded. "I think it's prudent to remember that Harvey Dent's death began in a warehouse, tied to a chair and rigged with explosives. The Joker put him there and the Batman captured the Joker, as you no doubt know."

Garcia sighed. "Yes, I know, Jim. But along the way, he killed five people – or caused them to be killed. I can't over look that and I can't allow _you _to overlook it, either, _Commissioner_."

Jim bristled slightly, but as he was unwilling to share the truth with the official seated opposite him, he could say nothing.

Garcia wasn't finished. "After Harvey was … injured, I realized that he might not be able to perform his duties for quite awhile. I consulted counsel and he confirmed that I have the ability to appoint an interim District Attorney who will hold office until the next scheduled election. I don't believe Gotham can afford to be without its prosecutor," he stated flatly.

_So this is the real reason for his urgency._" You've found someone then?" Jim sought to confirm.

"Yes."

"Well, as glad as I am that the role will be filled, I don't understand why I needed to come here on a Saturday morning to hear about it," Jim told the other man.

Garcia looked at the Commissioner for a moment before responding. "The interim D.A. claims to know you," he replied.

Jim raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "Really? Who is he?"

"She. The interim D. A. is a woman; Diana Garibaldi."

Jim felt lightheaded and he found he could not draw breath. A cold chill began in the pit of his stomach and radiated outward, throughout his body until he was certain Garcia could see its progress. Only by focusing on the view through the window behind the Mayor's head was Jim able to regain control of himself.

Finally drawing a deep breath, Jim spoke. "I haven't seen her in years."

Garcia shrugged. "That's what she said, as well. Diana said she knew you in Chicago."

"That's right," Jim nodded. "She was a special attorney for the city at the time."

"Well, she's moving into her apartment this weekend and will start work on Monday morning. I'd like you to meet with her sooner rather than later. I want her to hit the ground running on major crimes in this city; if she picks up where Harvey left off, we won't lose any momentum," Garcia stated.

"I'll call her office and set something up," Jim said.

Garcia shook his head. "I've taken care of that. She'll be in your office at 10 am. Make sure you're available."

Jim stood. "Is that all?"

Garcia looked up at him. "We need you to speak at Harvey's memorial service on Wednesday, Jim. You should prepare a few words."

"I'll take care of it," Jim replied, anxious to leave the office.

"How is your family doing after last night?" Garcia's expression softened a bit.

"They're alright," Jim answered. "Thanks for asking."

"Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Gordon," Garcia also rose.

With a nod, Jim left the office and walked down the corridor to the elevators. _Diana Garibaldi._ The name echoed through his mind, the syllables keeping time with the rhythmic slap of his shoes on the highly polished floor. His mind spun as he waited for the elevator and, once it arrived, he entered and mechanically pressed the button that would take him down to the lobby.

Once outside, Jim hurried to his car and roared out of the parking space he'd found in front of the building. _Diana Garibaldi_. His biggest mistake. The one that almost cost him everything: his marriage, his career – everything.

He checked traffic in his rearview mirror and eased the car down a side street that led to the highway out of town. Once on the interstate, Jim headed north and finally reached the exit that would lead to an area of quiet, picturesque countryside with long stretches of pasture and few houses. He wanted to just park the car and walk for awhile; take time to sort through the myriad of feelings and thoughts running through him since his meeting with the mayor. Turning right off the exit, Jim drove onward, past small, neatly kept houses on quiet, neatly kept streets until finally civilization seemed to drop away, replaced by apple trees filled with ripe fruit, fields dotted with freshly baled hay and trees just beginning to show signs of early autumn colors. He drove until he reached a small rest area on the side of the road. There was a small hut with a map of the area and points of local interest. Three brown picnic tables dotted the landscape, but no other weary travelers joined Jim in this out of the way spot. He was finally alone in a place where he could give into the turmoil whirling around in his mind – and his heart.

Jim alighted from the car, taking his keys and locking it behind him. Making his way to the most secluded of the picnic tables, Jim sat on the bench facing the road and folded his hands on the top of the table. As he stared at the worn wood before him, Jim allowed his mind to travel back to Chicago. Back to a time when it was still just the two of them - he and Barbara, living in a small apartment – their first home after they married. Back to his first days as a detective – and the case that had brought Diana Garibaldi into his life.

"_We'll be right there," Dave Slade, 20-year veteran of the Chicago P.D.'s Homicide Division replaced the handset of his phone in its cradle. He looked across the desk to the young man who had recently been assigned to him as a partner – James Gordon. He might have been new at the detective's title, but Dave had been impressed with the young man's natural curiosity and how he was able to instinctively channel it into an intelligent, structured investigatory strategy. _

"_Jim," he called over to his partner. "We've caught a murder down on Cicero. Let's go."_

_Jim nodded and shrugged into his jacket, following Dave out to their car. What they found when they arrived on scene chilled them both to the core. Just over the chain link fence at the side of a dimly lit side street lay the bodies of three young women. Each had been shot three times in the back of the head, execution style; the three were left lying side by side, nude. _

_It had taken the two detectives three weeks to conduct their investigation but, in the end, they had made an arrest and were convinced that it would result in a conviction. The suspect, one Jamal Doeringher, had been using young black women to transport heroin from Africa to the US. The young girls, called "swallowers" would, in fact, swallow rubber tubes of the drug in exchange for passage to the States. Once successfully through Customs, one of Doeringher's cohorts would retrieve them from the airport and bring them to one of the many temporary houses the drug king kept in the city. The young women would be fed a large dose of castor oil and once the drugs had been expelled, they were given a previously agreed-upon sum of cash and turned out into the street. The heroin was then refined and sold. It was a nice living for Doeringher and, if the odd girl died because the container burst in her system, well, it was a cost of doing business and didn't happen often enough to really concern him. What _did_ appear to concern him was the fact that some of the girls began to make demands of him after fulfilling their 'duties' and finding it difficult finding work and a place to live with no skills and little command of the English language. Rumor had it that some of the girls had decided to blackmail Doeringher, demanding cash in exchange for their silence; refuse them and they would go to the police. The call that drew Jim and Dave out of the squad room that night appeared to confirm that rumor. The night they arrested the man and brought him in for questioning, Diana Garibaldi had made her first appearance in the precinct. She was a special prosecutor at the time with a focus on the city's drug trade. Doeringher was a huge collar and she definitely wanted to make sure he was convicted on her watch. When she walked into the observation area behind the interrogation room, her petite size belied the presence she brought to the room. She was dubbed the "Tiny Terror" by her male counterparts in the prosecutors' office and her persistence and fiery disposition made that nickname an accurate one. Diana was 5'2" tall with thick, dark, straight hair and brilliant blue eyes. Her high cheekbones and generous smile were a tribute to her Italian heritage – as was her curvaceous figure. Jim found it difficult to look away from her and focus on his partner's interrogation of the sullen and uncommunicative Doeringher._

"_He lawyer up yet?" her soft voice came from directly behind Jim and he jumped slightly at the sound. _

"_Yeah," he responded after a moment. "Francis Slattery, Esquire should be arriving shortly."_

_Diana made a scoffing noise in her throat. "Lovely. Mob connected little scum."_

_Jim couldn't help but smile. "Don't be bashful, Counselor; say what's on your mind." _

_Diana came around to stand next to Jim and looked at him closely. "You're new, Detective."_

_Jim shook his head. "Recently promoted, but I've been a police officer for some time."_

"_Well, let me give you a piece of advice," Diana continued. "Don't irritate the prosecutors."_

_Jim raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Really, Counselor? I thought it was in our job description. Excuse me; I believe it's my turn with Mr. Doeringher. Have a nice evening." And he moved to the door leading into the interrogation room, changing places with Dave as soon as the other man walked through the door. _

"_Ms. Garibaldi," Dave greeted the woman as he moved to stand next to her where he could observe Jim's handling of the suspect through the two-way mirror. _

"_Detective Slattery," she responded. "Prisoner not cooperating?"_

_He shot her a side-long glance. "Not yet, but I'm hopeful."_

_Diana chuckled. "Who's the rookie?"_

"_Jim Gordon. He's a good cop who deserved this promotion," Dave replied. "He might be new to the detective squad, but he's hardly a rookie." He turned and looked at her closely. "What's your interest in him, Diana?"_

_The woman shrugged. "I didn't say that I _had _any interest in him, did I?"_

"_I've seen that look before. He's married," Dave retorted. _

_Diana nodded. "Duly noted, Detective, but off point."_

"_How so?"_

"_I'm not interested."_

_How wrong that proved to be. Over the next two weeks, despite Jim's happy marriage to a woman he adored, Diana kept popping into the precinct and interfering with his thoughts. Jim found that often, after one of her visits, his thoughts wandered to most inappropriate places. In the end, he couldn't deny that he was attracted to her, though he stuck by his resolve not to act on that attraction; the truth of the matter was that he loved his wife and his marriage wasn't worth a little work-related lust fulfillment. That said, he wished that he could simply absent himself whenever she visited, but her presence was more than justified by the turn that Doeringher's case had taken. Witnesses were disappearing in droves and their case was growing weaker by the minute. One night, Jim and Dave were called back into the precinct to accompany the prosecutor on a visit to their last substantial witness's home. The woman was coming under some significant pressure from Doeringher's cronies to recant her prior statement. Thus far, she was holding firm, but Diana felt that she was on the bubble and wanted to pay her a visit. When they arrived, the apartment was dark – but not for long. The sound of gunfire was heard from the end of the hallway and scuffling could be heard inside the woman's apartment. Dave called for backup and ran down the hallway to try to corner the individual who had fired the shots. Jim and Diana – who refused to leave the scene – entered the apartment, Jim keeping the prosecutor behind him as he moved inside the room. A flash of gunfire came from the far corner of the darkened room and Jim felt the hair on the top of his head lift as the bullet passed over his head. Aware of the unarmed woman behind him, Jim squinted against the dimness in the room and, when he heard the click of a hammer being pulled back, he fired in that direction. A bullet zinged past his hear, drawing a bit of blood, but this was more than offset by the 'thud' that came from the other side of the room. By the time back up arrived, Jim had confirmed that the shooter had, indeed, been Doeringher. Shouting to Dave to call an ambulance, Jim had cuffed the man and then turned his attention to Diana. _

_Jim found himself a bit surprised that the woman's normally pragmatic demeanor had slipped as a result of their experience. When he approached her in the hallway, Diana was trembling and he took her arm and led her from the building. "Come on," he said quietly. "I'll drive you home." _

_He opened her door for her and closed it after she had settled into her seat. Jim came around the front of the car and slid behind the wheel. Buckling the seatbelt, he turned to the prosecutor. "You'll need to tell me where you live, you know." In response the woman nodded and gave him the required directions. Jim pulled the vehicle into traffic and shortly afterward, found himself slowing down in front of a well kept brick two-family building._

"_Do you want me to walk you up?" Jim asked, knowing as he did so exactly how poor an idea that really was._

"_Would you mind?" Diana murmured. "I'm still a bit shaky, I'm afraid."_

_She turned out to be anything but shaky when they arrived at the door to her apartment. When Diana attempted to put her key into the lock, her hand was still shaking so badly she couldn't do it. Jim took the key from her hand, unlocked and opened the door. _

"_Would you just come in for a moment while I look around?" Diana asked. _

_Jim knew it was a bad idea, but he found himself nodding. When Jim had entered and closed the door, he turned and found Diana standing very close to him. He had no time – or room – to move and a moment later, her lips were on his and her arms were weaving their way around his neck. It took a few minutes, but Jim returned her kiss which had become harsh and demanding. His arms went round her waist and her fingers embedded themselves in his hair; and still, their heated kisses continued until Jim thought spontaneous combustion was not only possible, but entirely probable._

"_Jim," Diana murmured, bringing her open mouth along his jaw line to his ear and sucking the lobe into her mouth wantonly. "Bedroom."_

_How they got there, Jim would never remember, but as Diana's hand moved inside the opening of his trousers and grasped his erection firmly, he found that he couldn't remember her name. When she yanked his trousers and boxers down around his ankles, put the condom on his rigid member and pulled him down on top of her on the bed, Jim couldn't remember _his_ name. As he sank into her moist heat, Jim managed to remember one name: _Barbara_, but he was too far gone by that point. Brought together by the giddiness that comes when people survive in situations when they are not expected to do so, their passion was a purely physical celebration of that moment. Fueled by lust and an overwhelming sense of relief, their coupling was swift and culminated in an intense and fiery release that left them both gasping for air. When they had come back to themselves, Jim felt his heart sink at the realization of what he had done. His memory played no tricks on him then; his name, his address and with whom he shared that address came crashing down around him and he was consumed by the most intense guilt he had ever known. _

"_I have to go," he said to Diana. "I'm sorry; this should never have happened."_

"_But it _did _happen," she said quietly. "We both wanted it to happen."_

_Jim dressed quickly, but he paused at this and shook his head. "No, I never wanted this to happen. I'm married. I love my wife. What happened here today was lust and relief at having survived a situation in which we could have been killed. That's all it ever was; all it ever will be." He made quick work of his socks and shoes then paused. "I'm sorry, Diana. I never wanted this to happen." He rose and headed for the door, exiting quietly. _

"_Perhaps not," Diana whispered to herself. "But I certainly did."_

XXXXXXXX

Jim sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as he remembered that time. He recalled the disciplinary action that had been lodged against him for having stayed on scene and exchanged gunfire with Doeringher with a technical civilian present. His status as a detective was revoked, as well, as he was within the probationary period of his new position. Diana never spoke to him again and Jim soon quit the force and applied for and was given the position at the Gotham P.D.

The worst part of the whole episode was Barbara. Jim had gone home that night and had sat down with his wife and confessed the entire thing. There had been anger from Barbara – an explosive outburst that had been immediately followed by a slammed bedroom door and an almost oppressive silence. Unsure what he should do, Jim had simply remained on the living room sofa and when the bedroom door had opened again, there had been tears from them both. Jim had never felt the way he did as he stood before his wife – the woman he truly loved – was deeply in love _with _- and with whom he wanted to build a life. His emotions were sincere; his tears real and when he promised Barbara that he would never betray her again, he had meant it – and he had lived up to that promise. They talked it all out that night and Barbara had finally forgiven him. They had stayed up until the first fingers of sunlight split the dark sky and, when they finally went to bed, they made love and in those hours they recommitted themselves to each other and their relationship. Jimmy had been conceived that night and where others might have found that fact ironic had they known the full circumstances, Jim considered it most appropriate: a rebirth of their relationship and the creation of a new life from the commitment they had re-forged.

Jim looked out over the rest area and was almost surprised to see that the shadows were growing longer across the ground. He had been there more than three hours and, with that realization, Jim slid around and stood up from the bench. Stretching his arms over his head, he worked out the kinks in his muscles then walked swiftly back to his car. Starting the engine and strapping the seat belt in place, Jim thought, _Diana Garibaldi is back_ and he realized that the knowledge did nothing to or for him. He knew that seeing her again would _not _result in a resurgence of old feelings; of that he was certain. On the drive back to Gotham, Jim debated telling Barbara that Diana had come to Gotham and he was truly on the fence about his decision. As he approached his street, however, Jim made up his mind. The worst thing he could do was to ever hide the truth from Barbara again. He would tell her and hope for the best. He certainly had no intention of ever becoming involved with the woman again; as she had not even tried to contact him over the years, Jim had to believe that Diana felt the same way about him.

No, he thought as he slammed the car door shut and took the steps 2 at a time. Entering the house, he scooped up Maggie and held her tightly for a moment. Jimmy came out shortly afterward and hugged his father as well.

"Jimmy, could you please take Maggie and play in your room for a little while? I want to talk with Mommy about something." Jim smiled at his son.

"Ok, but don't eat without us, ok" the little boy asked and Jim had to laugh as he nodded.

"Don't worry, we won't," Jim reassured his son. Jimmy took Maggie from his father and the two of them headed down the hall together.

Jim walked out to the kitchen and went up behind Barbara, who was standing with her back to the room, at the sink. He wrapped his arms around her neck and kissed her cheek gently. "See? I'm home for dinner," he teased. "Just as I promised."

Barbara turned in his arms. "Yes, you are. I'm very proud of you; so proud that I didn't make that horrible chicken casserole!"

Jim smiled. "Hey, can we talk for a few minutes?"

Barbara's face immediately changed and became somewhat wary. "What is it?"

"Come on, let's go back to our room," Jim said, taking her hand and leading her down the hallway.

Once there, Barbara turned to face him. "Jim, please, you're scaring me."

Jim walked over and took Barbara in his arms. "There's nothing to be frightened of, I promise. I just wanted to tell you something that happened with Garcia this afternoon. Here, sit down."

They both sat on the edge of their bed and Jim continued to hold her hands in his. "Garcia went out and hired an interim D. A. until the next elections are held," Jim began. "He wants me involved in the transition between Dent and the new prosecutor."

Barbara shrugged but watched his face closely. "And…"

Jim took a deep breath. "_And _the new prosecutor is Diana Garibaldi," he finished.

Barbara's eyes grew wide and her face flushed. "_Diana Garibaldi_! How did he come to hire _her_?"

Jim shook his head. "I've no idea, Barb – really. He just called me down there to tell me. He doesn't know anything beyond the fact that Diana told him she knew me from Chicago."

"She told him that?" Barbara was aghast.

"Yes, but it didn't seem that she told him anything else," Jim reassured her.

"What do you think of all of this?" his wife wanted to know.

"Truthfully, I would rather have had him hire someone else," Jim admitted. "But other than that? Nothing. I wished that you didn't have to deal with it all again – the unpleasant memories. I hope you realize that there's nothing else for you to worry about," he finished.

Barbara nodded. "I told you this morning, I trust you; I believe in you. I still do. It's just that I would be less than honest with you if I said I like the situation."

"I know, sweetheart. I know," Jim said softly. He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. "I love you."

Barbara brought her hand up to cup his cheek. "I love you, too. What do you say we just put this out of our minds. She can't do anything to us – and she's only temporarily in Gotham. We can take it."

Jim smiled and nodded. "Yes, we can." He rose, but caught Barbara before she could leave the room. Drawing her back into his arms, he nuzzled her neck. "I meant it when I said there was no one but you."

Barbara nodded. "And I meant it when I said I trusted you," she replied in a whisper. "So let's just move on, shall we?"

Jim drew back and looked at Barbara's face. "Yes," he murmured, kissing her again.

"Come on," Barbara recaptured his hand. "Let's get back out to the kitchen so I can finish dinner. And you have some explaining to do to your daughter. She politely informed me that _she _wants to go out alone with Daddy, too."

Jim chuckled. "This should be fun," he said.

"Good luck," Barbara smiled. "She's in rare form today!"


	4. Ghosts of Past Transgressions

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by DC Comics, various publishers, and Warner Bros., Inc. Any other owners, licensees, or those legally attached to the Batman name, image, etc. of whom the author is unaware are included in this disclaimer although not mentioned by name. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: This story is based on characters and characterizations depicted in the Nolan version of the Batman universe. I am not well versed in the original, comic book depiction or any of its characters. Due to this, "Priorities" will largely be AU in content, although some second-hand detail may tie in loosely with comic book canon.

Chapter 4 – Ghosts of Past Transgressions

The sun hadn't been up very long when Jim pulled into the "Commissioner – GCPD" designated parking spot. The Monday morning commuter traffic hadn't really started and, as Jim looked around the parking garage, he realized that his was one of the few vehicles in the immediate vicinity. Quickly, he grabbed the worn leather briefcase and the travel mug of coffee from the car, locked it and walked toward the elevators. Ten o'clock would come before he knew it and, as little as Jim was looking forward to seeing Diana again, he desperately wanted to get that meeting out of the way.

XXXXXXXX

Across town, the early morning sun crept into a pale yellow bedroom, casting weak light across the rumpled bed covers. While the room was beautifully furnished and decorated, a lone packing carton, hastily shoved into a far corner, gave evidence of the recent change of resident.

The sound of running water stopped abruptly as the shower in the adjoining bathroom was turned off and in a moment, the buzz of a hair dryer took its place. Soon, a petite, dark-haired woman crossed the bedroom, bath towel wrapped around her body, sarong-style. Opening the double doors of the huge walk-in closet, Diana Garibaldi walked inside and thoughtfully considered the row of suits before her. Finally selecting a black suit featuring a curve-hugging pencil skirt, a crimson silk shell and soft, Italian leather stiletto pumps. Smiling to herself, Diana chose matching crimson undergarments and silk hosiery. Dressing quickly, she returned to her bedroom, seated herself at her vanity table and began to apply her makeup.

_Not bad, if I do say so myself_, she thought as she studied her reflection with a critical eye. In the nearly eight years since she had last seen Jim Gordon, very little in Diana's physical appearance had changed. Any tell tale silver in her dark brown hair was discreetly washed away by a very talented stylist who had recommended a similarly gifted professional in Gotham City. Her figure had always managed to be curvaceous without tending toward plumpness and a naturally quick metabolism had kept it so. Diana applied crimson lipstick to her full mouth, capped the tube and rose from the small bench. She slipped into her suit jacket and double-checked the mirror one final time. Diana smiled. _Barbara Gordon would have a tough time competing with_ _this_!

Spurred by that thought, Gotham's interim prosecutor made her way out into the living area of the townhouse, turning toward the granite topped breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the formal dining room. Diana silently blessed the technology gods for the creation of coffee makers that brewed according to pre-programmed timers. Sipping from a generously sized mug, the woman perched on one of the barstools and pulled her briefcase toward her. Diana slid a manicured hand into the front pocket and withdrew a plain manila folder marked "Personal and Confidential". As she did so, a number of 8 x 10 photos slipped onto the polished counter; various black and white shots of the Gordons looked back at her.

Neither the images in the photographs nor the neatly prepared reports held any revelations for Diana; she had virtually committed the folder's contents to memory weeks ago. Detective James Gordon … well, _Commissioner _James Gordon, now – had certainly done well establishing himself in Gotham City. Somehow, he had managed to remain married to his plain Jane wife who, in turn, had popped out a couple of kids for him. Diana perused the photographs one by one; the surveillance photographer had done his job very well. In her hands, Diana Garibaldi held snippets of family life – Jim Gordon's family life. Diana frowned as she turned up a photo of Barbara and Jim leaving a memorial service for one of Gotham's previous prosecutors, Rachel Dawes. _How could you have chosen her over me, Jim?_ Diana wondered. She closed her eyes and remembered that night in Chicago, so long ago, when they had come together. Diana was far from virginal when she took Jim Gordon to bed – and she had hardly been celibate since that time. While she wasn't necessarily interested in stepping into Barbara Gordon's role as his wife, Diana was decidedly attracted to Jim Gordon – and his prowess in the bedroom. For his part, he had attempted to minimize their professional interactions after the disciplinary action had stripped him of the rank of detective. Anxious to avoid fallout from their single passionate encounter, Diana had not initiated any contact with Jim. She had simply chosen to wait until his conscience had eased a bit and the time arrived when she could perhaps maneuver a more _personal_ encounter. He, however, had been maddeningly loyal to his little auburn-haired haus-frau and had taken her and fled Chicago shortly after their one-night stand. Discovering his new location had not been difficult and, once known, Diana filed the information away for potential future use. She then resumed her life, both professional and personal, earning a reputation as a ruthless prosecutor in the courtroom and something of a heartbreaker outside of it. That reputation had put her on a collision course with Chicago's infamous Colletti crime family – and Rico Colletti's eldest son, Marco. Now _there_…

The loud ring of her cell phone brought Diana out of her reverie. She picked up the instrument, pressed the 'answer' button and said, "Yes?"

"Ms. Garibaldi?" the voice was coolly professional.

"Yes," Diana said again.

"This is Eileen from Mayor Garcia's office. He wanted me to remind you of your 10 o'clock appointment with Commissioner Gordon."

Diana smiled. "Yes, thank you for the call."

Diana slipped her cell phone back into her purse, finished her coffee and placed the mug in the dishwasher. Grabbing briefcase, purse and car keys, she then made her way through the foyer of the townhouse and out the front door, wondering vaguely if Jim had received a similar call. She never for a moment doubted that Jim would honor the appointment; men like Commissioner Gordon were too honorable themselves to sidestep responsibility.

XXXXXXXX

"Thank you," Jim spoke quietly into his cell phone then flipped the unit closed.

_As if I needed a reminder of my 10 o'clock meeting_, he thought. _Garcia certainly covered all his bases, didn't he?_ As that thought crossed his mind, Jim idly wondered if Eileen had been instructed to remind Diana of the meeting as well.

Jim pulled a folder from the pile teetering on the top of his desk. In it was a multi-page listing of all pending cases of arrests made by the Major Crimes Unit in the past three months. Complete with summaries, it was a staggering account of the heights to which crime had escalated in the city – and how much progress had been made in reversing the trend. Jim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. With the Batman a perceived criminal, that progress was going to come to a screeching halt. He could only hope that the criminal element didn't gain too much ground before Batman's situation was resolved.

"Commissioner Gordon?"

Jim looked up from the folder to see Claire, his secretary, standing in the doorway.

"Hi, Claire. Let me guess: my 10 o'clock appointment is here, right?" he smiled at the older woman, who nodded and stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Jim's eyebrows rose; Claire was as predictable as death and taxes – and this behavior was decidedly _unpredictable_.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Claire glanced over her shoulder at the closed door before answering. "She's very … well, I would have to say…"

A firm knock on the door interrupted her and Claire frowned. She looked over at her boss and raised one eyebrow. "_Pushy_," she finished and turned to open the door. Jim barely managed to wipe the amused smile from his face before Diana strode into the room, her hand extended toward him. She never gave Claire a second look.

"Commissioner Gordon," Diana spoke quietly, watching Jim's face as he shook her hand briefly then gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

"Ms. Garibaldi," he replied in kind. "Please, sit down. Can I offer you anything? Coffee, tea?" As he raised his eyes toward the doorway, Claire's frown deepened into a scowl and she shook her head once, then left the room, closing the door firmly behind her. Jim bit the inside of his cheek and returned his gaze to the woman seated in front of him.

"Nothing, thank you," Diana said, glancing around at the closed door, then back at Jim. "Given that you would apparently have to make it yourself…"

Jim gave her a brief smile. "I assure you, I would not." When Diana said nothing further on the subject, he shrugged and took his seat. "If you change your mind, let me know."

Jim picked up the folder he had been reviewing prior to Diana's arrival and extended it across the desk to her. "I've pulled together a list and summary for you of each of the pending cases from the Major Crimes Unit. I thought you could take some time to review it and we could discuss any questions you might have."

Diana reached for the file without breaking eye contact with Jim. "Getting right down to business, are we, Jim?"

Jim returned her gaze steadily. "That's why the Mayor set up this meeting, Diana," he replied. "It is the _only _reason for the meeting."

Diana settled the file in her lap and crossed her legs. "And what about the 800 pound elephant in the room?"

Jim sighed. "If you are referring to what happened in Chicago, that elephant was put to sleep a long time ago. I thought you realized that. Diana, what happened back then was brought on by some type of survivor euphoria. We had been in a life-threatening situation and responded without thinking when we pulled through it. It was a mistake. A mistake made almost 8 years ago. In Chicago. That chapter of my life is closed. Don't try to open it here. Please. We need to work together until a permanent DA is in place. Let's make it as stress-free as we can, shall we?"

Diana found herself enthralled as she listened to him speak. This was _not _the Jim Gordon she had known – and bedded – in Chicago. The man seated across from her was far more confident, more mature, less inclined to allow himself to be dazzled by an attractive – and available – colleague. _This could complicate things_.

Forcing what she hoped to be a relieved-looking smile on her face, Diana nodded. "I'm glad, Jim. I'll confess that I wasn't sure I was doing the right thing in agreeing to come to Gotham to fill in as the interim DA." She leaned forward, clasping her hands on the edge of his desk. "Let's face it, you and I didn't really communicate much with each other after we …," she paused and looked away for a moment before continuing. "… well, _afterward_. I wasn't sure that you weren't harboring resentment toward me for the demotion or … anything _else_ that happened that night."

Jim felt the heat rise to his face and knew he was blushing furiously. Taking a deep breath, his voice was stead as he replied, "Diana, I never resented you for anything that happened back then. The demotion was the result of my bringing an unarmed civilian into a dangerous situation where gunfire was exchanged and a man shot. Was there a political angle to that demotion because we slept together? I doubt it – unless someone found out about that; even if they had known, I sincerely doubt that it would have made a difference. I was a newly promoted detective with absolutely no political sway in that town. You were, I'll grant you, an up and coming prosecutor, but you weren't in a position to influence anyone at that time, either."

"Ouch," Diana smiled wryly.

Jim shook his head. "I said 'at that time'. Whatever influence you gained afterward is your own business. I have no knowledge of it and, unless it affects what happens here in Gotham, I don't need to have knowledge of it." He stopped and took a deep breath. "I think that it would just be best for you and I to start with a clean professional slate."

"Agreed," Diana said.

Jim cleared his throat. "I need to ask something, Diana," he said quietly. "Did you mention any detail about Chicago to Garcia when you met with him?"

_Ah, so the Commissioner _does _feel a bit of regret – or is it _guilt_ about that night_. "Of course not, Jim," she reassured him. "He only knows that you and I were acquainted in Chicago. I also told him that we hadn't spoken in years."

"Good," Jim nodded.

"I wouldn't deliberately do anything that would compromise your position here," Diana said, hoping that Jim felt she was sincere. In truth, telling the tale of their tryst from so long ago would cause her own reputation harm. That was her overriding reason for holding her tongue.

"I appreciate that, Diana," Jim was saying. "Now, let's put this clean slate to work and start reviewing those cases."

Diana smiled and shifted her chair closer to the edge of his desk. "You know, I think I _will _have that cup of coffee, after all."

Jim smiled and picked up the phone to ask Claire to accommodate them.

XXXXXXXX

"Daddy!" Maggie's voice split the early evening air as she spied Jim pulling into their driveway. Leaping up from the top step of their tiny porch, she fairly danced in place while she waited for her father to lock the car and make his way up the walk.

"Maggie-mine!" he replied, reaching the bottom step and holding out his arms.

As was their habit – whenever he arrived home early enough – she leapt from the top step and Jim caught her, swinging her around once before hugging her to him tightly, kissing her cheek and tickling her with his mustache.

"I like it when you come home for dinner," she confided, kissing his cheek an extra time and giving him another tight hug.

Jim returned her embrace then climbed the three steps leading to the house. "I like it when I come home for dinner, too," he said, opening the door and depositing his giggling daughter on the floor.

"Mommy! Daddy's home," Maggie called into the kitchen.

"Maggie, use your indoor voice, please," Barbara admonished the little girl, coming into the entryway to meet her husband. She embraced him tightly, loving the feel of his arms snaking around her waist and hugging her closely. "You couldn't speak to her about shrieking in the house, I suppose?" she whispered in his ear, barely stifling a giggle.

Jim drew back to look at her, not bothering to restrain his own chuckle. "Nope," he replied. "I went deaf after she met me on the steps!"

"So did half the neighbors, I'm sure," Barbara smiled, leaning up and kissing him again. "Dinner will be ready in about 20 minutes. You've got time to wash up and change."

"Can I expect this type of treatment every night at suppertime?" Jim asked, grinning. "Because if this happens every night, I'm going to try harder to get home on time from now on!"

Barbara smiled at him, but dropped her hand from his neck and gave his bottom a pinch.

"Hey!" Jim objected. "That hurt!"

"I know," she replied, moving away from him and heading back into the kitchen. Half way there, she turned and mouthed, "Smart ass!"

Jim shook his head at her. "Language, Mrs. Gordon!" He turned away to head toward their bedroom then turned back. "Hey, where's Jimmy?"

Barbara smiled sadly. "In his room. Had a bit of a problem at school today. A couple of boys were teasing him about the Batman: how the Commissioner was wrong about him. Jimmy took it without saying anything but when he turned to walk away from them, one of the boys said something about you that he didn't like and he gave the boy a shove. One of the teachers saw the whole thing and called me. No one was hurt and the principal is going to have a chat with the boys who were involved, since they clearly instigated things."

Jim closed his eyes for a minute. "Did you talk with him?"

Barbara nodded. "I told him I thought he was brave for sticking up for what he believed in – for sticking up for you, but that we needed to use our words and not our hands when people made us angry. I told him that I thought he should talk with you when you got home tonight."

XXXXXXXX

Jim knocked on his son's closed door and waited for a moment.

"Come in."

"Hey," Jim walked into the boy's room and closed the door behind him.

"Hi, Daddy," his son replied without looking up.

"Can I sit with you for a minute?"

The boy nodded and Jim sat next to him on his bed.

"Did Mommy tell you what happened today at school?" Jimmy asked.

"Yes, son, she did," Jim replied. "Look at me, please."

Jimmy looked up at his father and Jim was dismayed to see that his eyes were slightly red.

"You were very brave to stand there and not react to what they said about the Batman. I know how hard that was. You know Batman's a good guy, that he's on our side and it's hard to listen to people say otherwise. You knew you couldn't say anything and you didn't. I'm proud of you, son," Jim said quietly, putting his hand on the top of Jimmy's head.

Jimmy exhaled shakily. "But I pushed Tom," he whispered. "He said that you were … well, he said something about you that made me mad."

Jim smiled. "Want to tell me what he said?"

Jimmy looked up at him again. "He said you were stupid to have thought that the Batman was a good guy."

Jim grinned at his son. "Do _you _think I'm stupid?"

Jimmy's eyes grew wide. "No!"

"Then that's all that matters to me. I don't care what this kid Tom thinks of me. I care what _my _kid, _Jimmy_ thinks of me. Understand?" Jim put his arm around his son's shoulders.

Jimmy nodded and, for the first time, smiled up at his father.

"Now," Jim continued. "That's not to say that pushing him was the right thing to do. I understand why you did it, but Mommy was right – you need to use your words and not your hands in those situations. Clear?"

Jimmy nodded. "Clear."

Jim leaned down and kissed the boy's blonde head. "Good. Now, let's get washed up for dinner, ok?"

Jimmy's jaw dropped. "That's it? You're not going to punish me?"

Jim smiled. "Are you going to do it again?"

"No way!"

"Then I think we're ok, don't you?" Jim asked.

Jimmy smiled again. "Yeah, I do."

"Good." Jim rose and headed for the door. He put his hand on the knob and paused, turning back toward his son. "Jimmy," he called quietly. When the boy looked up, he continued, "Thank you for sticking up for me, son."

Jimmy nodded. "Anytime. I'll just remember to do it better next time."

Jim laughed. "Come on, let's get ready for dinner."

XXXXXXXX

"Hey, baby, how was your first day in Gotham?" Marco Colletti's deep voice came through the phone.

"Successful," Diana purred back, settling herself more comfortably against her bed pillows. "Do you miss me?"

"Like crazy," came the response.

"When are you coming to Gotham?" Diana asked, already feeling the effects of her lover's voice over the phone.

"I'll be coming up to look things over by the end of the week. Find a place where we can meet that's far enough out of Gotham so we're not seen," Marco instructed.

Part of Diana bristled at the order, but she was far too anxious to spend a private weekend as the center of Marco's attention to challenge him. "I'll find someplace _very _private. I'll call you in a couple of days," she whispered into the phone.

"Clear your calendar, Di," Marco responded. "I'm not going to let you out of my sight for three days!"

"I'm looking forward to it," Diana said then disconnected the call.

_Jim Gordon, your life just got a little more complicated_, she thought as she reached over and turned off her bedside light.


	5. Interruptions and Affirmations

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by DC Comics, various publishers, and Warner Bros., Inc. Any other owners, licensees, or those legally attached to the Batman name, image, etc. of whom the author is unaware are included in this disclaimer although not mentioned by name. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: This story is based on characters and characterizations depicted in the Nolan version of the Batman universe. I am not well versed in the original, comic book depiction or any of its characters. Due to this, "Priorities" will largely be AU in content, although some second-hand detail may tie in loosely with comic book canon.

**Warnings: Sexual content**.

Chapter 5 – Interruptions and Affirmations

Jim removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. Replacing his glasses, he glanced at his watch; 7:15 pm. He'd managed dinner at home every night this week. Jim snorted. _I should have known it wouldn't last. _

Diana Garibaldi had begun to make progress on two of the larger cases on the Major Crimes list. Both promised to bring key drug traffickers to justice. Regrettably, both folders were several inches thick and, barring any type of last-minute confession from either defendant, Jim would be required to provide lengthy testimony at trial. He closed the first file and reached for the second. As he pulled it toward him, Jim's gaze rested on a photograph of Barbara and the kids that he kept on his desk. He smiled softly. He was lucky and he knew it. He could have lost her in Chicago; he could have lost _everything _back then – over one stupid, adrenaline-triggered moment of sheer stupidity. Jim reached over and ran the tip of a finger gently over the image of his wife's face. _Thank you_, he thought to himself. _Thank you for giving me that second chance. I won't blow it._

A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts and onto his feet. "Yes?"

"Gotham Catering," came a female voice from the other side.

_Gotham Catering?_ Jim's brow furrowed in confusion as he pulled open the door. _What the hell…_

"Good evening, Commissioner Gordon."

"Barbara!" Jim greeted the smiling woman in front of him as she handed him a large bag then reached down to retrieve the cooler at her feet. "What are you …"

Barbara stepped through the doorway, leaning over and kissing Jim's lips before continuing to his desk. "…doing here?" At his nod, she continued, "Well, you weren't able to make it home for dinner tonight, so I decided to bring _it_ to _you_." Barbara turned, balancing two covered plates in her hands. "Hungry?"

Jim smiled broadly. "Starving," he replied. "Two plates?"

"Thought I might join you," his wife replied. "The kids are at Susan's."

Jim chuckled. "Where they will have the time of their lives with their cousins, I'm sure. Is this an overnight visit?" He came up behind Barbara and removed the plates from her hands, putting them on the desk. Jim slipped his arms around her waist and nuzzled the side of her neck.

Barbara's breath caught momentarily. "Well, I didn't bring a toothbrush, but I suppose I could stay the night."

Jim's deep chuckle vibrated against her skin and he nipped her ear. "Think you're funny, do you?" He brought his hands up to her shoulders and gently turned her around to face him.

"I've been told I have a good sense of humor," she whispered in reply. She shivered as her husband brought his hands to cup her face, his long fingers entwining themselves in her hair.

"Hmm, well, we could sit down and tell jokes, if you'd like, but I can think of something better to pass the time," Jim whispered back, capturing her lips with his own and kissing her gently. He felt Barbara's lips part and he immediately deepened the kiss, breaking it only when the need for oxygen demanded it. Jim rested his forehead against Barbara's. "I love you, Barb," he whispered.

"I love you, too," she said. "Always. Come on, let's have dinner."

Jim smiled and nodded. "And after dinner?"

"I'm going to drag you home to our otherwise empty house and have my wicked way with you," Barbara said, leaning up and kissing him again. "We'll call it dessert."

Jim laughed. "Works for me." He embraced her tightly again; as hungry as he was, he was more reluctant to let her go.

Footsteps on the hardwood floor made the couple jump.

"Jim, great news – the judge has moved the trial date up to next Friday and …. oh, I'm _sorry_, I …" Diana Garibaldi stood in the open doorway of Jim's office, a file in her hand. "I thought you said you were working late so I didn't bother to call. I just got in my car and … well, I've obviously interrupted something. I'll just go…"

Jim released Barbara, stepping around her, but keeping his hand on her arm. "Diana, it's fine." He glanced over at his wife and slid his hand down to entwine their fingers. "Barbara, this is Diana Garibaldi. Diana, my wife, Barbara."

In a moment, Diana's sweeping gaze took in Barbara's tousled hair and slightly swollen lips. She fixed a polite smile on her face and came the rest of the way into the room, her hand extended in greeting. "I'm very happy to _finally _meet you; Jim has told me so much about you that I almost feel that I know you," she said in what she hoped was a warm voice.

Barbara felt the pressure of Jim's hand as he squeezed hers briefly before releasing it. Barbara shook Diana's hand, forcing a smile. "Thank you. Jim's told me quite a bit about you, as well," she said quietly, her smile becoming less forced as she heard her husband's quickly swallowed chuckle behind her.

The atmosphere became a bit thick as silence settled over the small group. Finally, Jim spoke, "Diana, why don't you call my office on Tuesday morning and we'll set up a time to prepare for the trial?"

_Giving me the brush-off, Jim?_ Diana managed to keep her irritation from showing in her expression. _And for what? The 'little woman'? _She thought of Marco waiting for her up at the lakeside cabin she'd rented for the weekend and her ego suddenly felt less bruised. _Slightly_ less bruised. Diana smiled. "Of course, Jim. As I said, I can see that I've interrupted your dinner. I'll just be going. Enjoy the weekend, then." Diana turned and walked the short distance to the doorway. "Nice to meet you, Brenda," she called as she left the room, leaving the office door wide open behind her.

_Count to ten_, Barbara told herself, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. When she was certain her voice would be steady, she spoke. "So, _that _was Diana Garibaldi, was it?"

"_That _was Diana Garibaldi," Jim confirmed, stepping closer to her once again.

Barbara opened her eyes to see him standing directly in front of her. "She's very beautiful," she said.

Jim never broke eye contact with his wife as he shrugged. "If you like the type."

"The voluptuous, perfectly gorgeous type who always has every hair in place, dresses impeccably and makes other women feel like the rag-picker's child?" Barbara questioned.

"I was thinking more along the lines of the cold, overly-ambitious career woman type who probably spends more time trying to _look_ perfect so they can fool everyone else into believing they really _are_ that way," he replied, reaching over and brushing a piece of hair back behind his wife's ear as he shook his head. "I don't care for that type."

Barbara found herself calming considerably. "What type _do_ you care for?"

Jim smiled and pulled her into his arms. "I don't care for _types_," he replied. "I care for _you_, very much – and you know it."

"Mmm," Barbara kissed the side of his neck as she brought her arms up to rest on his shoulders.

"She can't touch us," Jim whispered. "Remember that."

Barbara nodded, pulling back to look into his eyes. "I know, it's just that seeing her was harder than I thought it would be. Knowing what happened between you and having a face to go with the name…"

Jim sighed. "But it doesn't really change anything, does it? You and I are together; we have two children together. I love you. _You_. No one else. And, I didn't choose to work tonight, right? I'm here, with you, and we're going to have dinner together. Alone." Jim paused and smiled ruefully. "Well, as "alone" as we're apt to get with Major Crimes on the other side of that door…." His voice trailed off as he thought he detected movement from beyond the door. Jim kissed Barbara gently. "Speaking of 'that door', I think I'll close it and give us a little more privacy, ok?"

Barbara nodded. "Ok," she said.

Jim walked quickly over to the door and stepped over the threshold to look in the waiting area. A movement on the other side of the frosted glass door caught his eye and walked quickly across the room and pulled the door open. The elevator doors were closing, but he caught sight of Diana's trench coat before they closed completely. Jim shook his head and retraced his steps to the waiting area. As he did so, Gerry Stephens came through the door that led into the squad room. "Hey, did Garibaldi find you?"

Jim rolled his eyes and nodded. "Yes. Do I have you to thank for telling her I was still here?"

Gerry shook his head. "Never had time. She walked straight through the squad room before I could say anything. Pushy broad, if you ask me."

Jim turned toward his office. "I didn't – but you're right. Hey, Gerry, run some interference for me, will you? I'd like to have dinner with my wife. Unless it's something I _have _to know about, let's let it keep 'til Monday, ok?"

Gerry grinned at his old friend, "You bet, Boss. I'll see you Monday."

Jim returned his smile and walked into his office, closing the door behind him.

"Now, Gerry's going to hold down the fort, all prosecutors appear to have left the building and I've locked the door," he said, walking toward Barbara who was spooning potato salad onto two paper plates.

"Meaning?" Barbara placed a sandwich on Jim's plate and handed it to him.

"Meaning that the quicker we finish our dinner, the quicker we can head home for dessert," her husband replied, waggling his eyebrows. "_Brenda!_" His eyes twinkled as he placed a rather large forkful of salad in his mouth.

XXXXXXXX

Diana was fuming as she turned the key in the ignition and gunned her car out of the parking lot. _Cold, overly ambitious career woman, eh? Fooling everyone into believing she's perfect? _Diana guided her car onto the highway, accelerated quickly and set her cruise control. _I'll make you _eat _those words, Commissioner_, she thought to herself as she made her way to the lake, some ten miles outside Gotham's city line. It stung to have Jim Gordon make those comments; it was worse that he had brushed her off in favor of his wife, a mousy woman at best, in Diana's opinion. The thought that she would be spending considerable time with Jim next week smoothed her ruffled feathers somewhat. Trial preparation – particularly _this one_ – would take two or three days of focused review. Diana smirked. _I'll make _sure_ of it._ The thought of the trial reminded her of the real reason she had gone to see Gotham's top cop that evening. Marco Colletti had called her with news of a potential problem with the case. One of the Colletti family's operatives, a soldier named Anthony Morello, could be tied back to one of the drug dealers – a man named Carlo Gia. Morello's affiliation with the Colletti family was well known and the Federal Government had been trying to get enough on him to arrest him and try to turn him against Colletti. Thus far, they had been unsuccessful. Marco wanted Diana to make the connection "disappear", but Diana knew his name appeared in Jim's copy of the file. She was to have gone to the Commissioner's office and slipped her altered copy of that second file into place on Jim's desk, taking his copy with her. Barbara's presence – and the cozy little tête-à-tête Diana had interrupted – had made that impossible. _Temporarily impossible,_ Diana amended as she pulled into the small, dirt parking area in front of her cottage. Marco would not be pleased that the task had not been accomplished tonight. Diana smiled. She would make him forget his disappointment. And the files would be switched on Tuesday.

Diana walked onto the porch and opened the front door. All was dark save a crackling fire in the hearth. "Marco?" Diana called out.

"Over here," a deep voice spoke from the sofa.

Diana strolled over to the sofa to find the burly, handsome young man lying there, seemingly waiting for her.

"Hey, baby," she purred, kicking off her heels and removing her suit jacket before lying next to him on the wide sofa. "Miss me?" she whispered, slipping her hand into his shirt front and kissing his throat.

Marco breathed in sharply as he felt her teeth working on the sensitive skin at the base of his throat. "Yeah, I missed you." He placed his hand under her chin and tipped her face up so he could look at her. "Did you switch the files?"

"There was an unexpected situation when I got to Gordon's office," she responded, wincing when his hand slipped down and tightened slightly around her throat.

"What _kind_ of 'unexpected situation'?" he demanded.

Diana struggled to take a deep breath. "Let go of me and I'll explain it to you," she gritted out.

Marco's smile didn't reach his eyes. "You're not giving the orders here," he said, but released her nonetheless. "Spill it."

Diana sat up, rubbing her throat where his fingers had held her. "Gordon's little wife had shown up with dinner. Let's just say that for once, he couldn't be distracted by work."

"Or by _you_, Counselor," Marco added, smirking.

Diana glared at him. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

Marco made a gesture indicating that she should continue; his smirk intact.

"He and I will be meeting over 2 or 3 days next week to prepare him to testify. I'll make the switch then. You've got nothing to worry about," she finished.

Marco nodded. "You'd better make it happen, Diana," he replied. "or you will have _plenty_ to worry about. My father doesn't take failure lightly. He expects his Consigliere to perform and if you want to hold that position in the family, you're going to have to _earn it_ – and _not _on your back, either! My father doesn't care how good in bed you are, so I can only be so much help to you."

Diana raised her hand to slap him as she felt a wave of white hot fury race through her for the second time that night. Marco was two steps ahead of her, however, and caught her wrist before she could strike the blow. "Regular little spitfire tonight, aren't you? Must have been that cozy little love scene in Gordon's office that set you off. Lucky me; I think I can find a better use for all that rage…and make you forget Gotham City's precious _Commissioner_ _Gordon _in the bargain." As he finished he pulled Diana down until their noses were just touching. "Capisce?"

"Yeah, I understand," Diana breathed. "Now shut up – and kiss me."

Marco chuckled low in his throat and crushed his lips to hers.

XXXXXXXX

Jim kissed Barbara deeply, his tongue exploring the familiar contours of her mouth, eliciting a soft moan from her as he brushed against her sensitive palate. They kissed passionately for long moments, their bodies glistening as they moved urgently against each other. Jim lifted his head and gazed down into his wife's face, so expressive as she arched against him.

"Jim, please," she whispered, her eyes closing. "I can't … take it." Her breaths were coming in staccato bursts. "I … I need,"

He leaned down and kissed her once more before bringing his face to her neck, licking and kissing the sensitive spot below her ear. "I need you, too - _always_," he whispered, increasing his pace. Jim kissed her eyelids, her cheeks and finally her lips, soft moans punctuating his caresses as he felt his body begin to tense. "_Barbara_," he cried as he felt her clench around him, calling out his name. "I love you," he murmured moments later as they began to regain control of their breathing.

"Mmm, I love you," Barbara replied, kissing his ear, then his temple.

"Am I crushing you?" he asked.

Barbara shook her head. "No, I like you right where you are," she replied, smiling and tightened her hold around his shoulders.

Jim huffed a breath in reply and a few moments later, he slid from her and lay on his side, pulling her to him.

"That was wonderful," Barbara whispered, turning her head to kiss his chest.

"Mmm, it was," he agreed, kissing the top of her head. "Hey, what do you have planned for the weekend?"

Barbara tilted her head upward to look at him. "Nothing. I thought you'd probably have to prepare for that trial, so I didn't plan a thing. Why?"

Jim smiled at her. "I've just gotten the most overwhelming urge to spend the entire weekend with my family. Don't care what we do; don't care where we go or if we even leave the house. I just want us to be together."

Barbara frowned. "What is it, Jim? What's wrong?"

Jim shook his head. "There's nothing wrong, honey. Look, tonight, before you got to the office, I found myself thinking how close I came to losing everything good in my life – how close I came to losing _you_ back in Chicago. I know how lucky I am that you forgave me and I meant it when I said that you'd never have a reason to regret that forgiveness. Then, Diana shows _up_ with some crazy story about a new trial date and the need to prep for the trial. I sent her packing and it felt _good_ to do that. And it wasn't just saying no to her that felt good; it was saying no to another weekend of work that felt just as good. I'm not stupid enough to think that I can do this all the time – and with the trial coming, it's not likely that I'll be able to do it again soon, but I can do it _now_. What's the use of working so hard to make the city safe for you if I can't spend any time _with _you?"

Barbara stroked his cheek and smiled. "I love you. I know why you work the hours you do. But I'll admit, it's nice to be the choice every once in awhile."

Jim turned his head and kissed her palm. "Get up here," he whispered. When Barbara complied and inched her way upward until they were facing each other, Jim kissed her lips gently. "I love you, too. And suddenly, I'm feeling like I need a bit more dessert. What do you think about that?"

Barbara laughed in delight. "Well, maybe just this once!"

Jim smiled and kissed her again, gently pushing on her shoulder until Barbara lay back on her pillow, looking up at him. "I love you," he said once again and proceeded to show her exactly how much.

XXXXXXXX

On the outskirts of Gotham, Diana lay in the huge, pine bed in the cabin's master bedroom. She pulled the covers higher over her body to dispel the chill of the room. Marco was out like a light; Diana had learned that he was definitely _not _into post-coital cuddling. A quick kiss and a "night baby, you were fantastic" was about the best she could hope for. Diana sighed and found herself wondering just how far the Gordon's cozy little dinner had gone that evening. That thought led her back to Chicago and the one time she had managed to finagle Jim Gordon into her bed. It had been fast, but it had been _good_; good enough that Diana had made sure that the Colletti family business would lead her to Gotham – and possibly another shot at the man who had walked out of her life nearly 8 years ago. Marco grunted and turned over, draping an arm over her stomach in his sleep. Yes, Marco and his family were her future and if Jim Gordon was a casualty on her way toward her career goal, then so be it. There was a price to pay for such an unceremonious ending to what could have been a mutually satisfying relationship. Perhaps she could manage one more physical interlude with him before it was over. Diana smiled. And perhaps she could arrange for _Barbara_ Gordon to get wind of it. _I deserve a bit of revenge, after all. Wouldn't it be fitting if I managed to break up that little marriage of his in the bargain? And _this time_, Commissioner Gordon, it will be _me_ who leaves town. This time, you'll be the one left behind. _With that satisfying thought, Diana closed her eyes and allowed sleep to claim her.

**Author's Note: My apologies to those of you who have been reading this story and have gone so long without an update. I am working on another story in the Harry Potter universe and that has been my focus for the past month. I have NOT abandoned this story, nor will I. I continue to try to work on both stories simultaneously, but updates may not be as consistent as I would like them to be. I appreciate your patience and all of your reviews. Thanks for sticking with this story. **


	6. Trials of Many Kinds

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by DC Comics, various publishers, and Warner Bros., Inc. Any other owners, licensees, or those legally attached to the Batman name, image, etc. of whom the author is unaware are included in this disclaimer although not mentioned by name. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: This story is based on characters and characterizations depicted in the Nolan version of the Batman universe. I am not well versed in the original, comic book depiction or any of its characters. Due to this, "Priorities" will largely be AU in content, although some second-hand detail may tie in loosely with comic book canon.

**Warnings: None for this chapter**.

Chapter 6 – Trials of Many Kinds

On Monday morning, Jim settled into his office chair and pulled toward him the file he had abandoned Friday evening. As he did so, he smiled, remembering the weekend that had begun with Barbara's surprise visit. True to his word, Jim had spent the entirety of both days with his family; no Kevlar-clad Dark Knight or demanding city official had interrupted them. Jim's mind traveled back over the weekend – from lingering in bed with Barbara until noon on Saturday (a luxury he could definitely get used to!), to picking up two very surprised children at Barbara's sister's home, to a family cook out at the lake on Sunday, it was a relaxing time. Problem was – it left Gotham's Police Commissioner longing for more. Jim sighed, remembering the words he'd said to Barbara so many times. Yes, the time he spent away from them all now meant that Gotham would, hopefully, be safer more quickly. Jim could then afford to work more "normal" hours. He shook his head, smiling ruefully. _I'm beginning to understand how she feels every time she has to listen to that speech_, he thought to himself.

"You look pleased with yourself this morning," a female voice cut into his thoughts.

Jim looked up to see Diana Garibaldi standing in the doorway, briefcase in one hand and a cardboard carrying tray bearing two cups of coffee in the other. He rose and crossed the room to take the tray from her.

"It would be a shame to spill any of this," he said, smiling.

"Mmm, an outright tragedy," Diana replied, following him to his desk. She dropped her briefcase into one of the guest chairs then shrugged out of her trench coat.

Jim handed her one of the two paper cups and took her coat. "Sit down. I'll just hang this up," he said.

Once they were seated, Jim spoke, "So, the trial date has been moved up to Friday. How did you get Judge Sporelli to agree to that?"

Diana shrugged. "I hinted that I would certainly hate to be the person who held up the potential conviction of some of Gotham's more pervasive criminal element." The D.A. paused, studying one long, red fingernail before continuing, "Particularly as it's an election year."

Jim snorted in amusement. "You're lucky it didn't go the other way; Sporelli doesn't like being one-upped, particularly on her own turf!"

"Well, I said it with a great deal of professional charm," Diana replied with a smirk. "And … I find that people can overlook being trumped if there's something in it for them. Clearly, if her job was on the line, there was something in it for her!"

Jim listened, a thoughtful look on his face. "So, everyone has an angle, is that it?"

Diana nodded. "I generally find that to be true."

Jim nodded, leaning forward in his chair. "So, what's _your _angle?"

Diana's posture stiffened and her face flooded with color at the question. "Excuse me?"

"Why did you come to Gotham? Clearly, there's no lack of crime in Chicago," he reasoned, watching her carefully. "Why take a temporary position here, of all places?"

_Think fast_, Diana thought to herself. She leaned back in her chair, forcing herself to relax as she crossed one long leg over the other. "I've started to re-think my own career, Jim," she said carefully. "I've been in Chicago for a long time – longer than I'd originally planned. There have been some changes in the Prosecutor's office and I'm not so sure I care for the new structure. This opportunity gives me the chance to test the waters a bit; try some interesting cases and figure out my next move." _There. Best to stay vague, but give enough information to satisfy._

"Considering a move to Gotham?" Jim asked, half in jest. _Permanent residence in Gotham would _not _be received well at home._

Diana decided to have a bit of fun now that Jim seemed to have accepted her story at face value. "I'm really open to anything," she replied. "Gotham City isn't quite the speck on the map that it once was. A sharp prosecutor could really do very well here – perhaps even rise to the bench one day. Sporelli did, after all. She really was one of Gotham's pioneers for women in public office."

"Yes, she's very well respected," Jim agreed, wondering if Diana was serious about leaving Chicago. She had to have done well there or Garcia wouldn't have taken her on here. "Have you tipped Garcia off to the fact you'd consider a nomination to the DA's position? It _is _an election year, after all." He tossed her own comment back at her to see if she'd grab it.

Diana smiled to herself. _Still so transparent; so predictable_. _My job might be easier than I dreamed it would be._ "I thought I'd get a few convictions under my belt before I explored the idea. And, of course, I won't get any convictions until I actually try a case, and…"

"You won't try a case until it's prepped," Jim finished. "I get it, Counselor. Let's get to work." He pulled the Carlo Gia file toward him. "This is Friday's case. I'm afraid I've just opened it; I finished the Dante file late last week."

Diana hid her sigh of relief behind what she hoped Jim thought was a wry chuckle. "And you didn't pack up this one to take home with you for the weekend? That doesn't sound like the Jim Gordon I remember from the old days." _He hadn't read the file yet; this certainly made the switch between this and the doctored folder much more compelling – and less of a risk … but how to accomplish it_?

"I had other plans this weekend," he said. _And I'm just as anxious as you are to rid this city of some of the garbage that's infested it over the past couple of years. _

"Lovely," Diana was saying as she leaned forward to put her coffee cup back on Jim's desk. Unfortunately, she did not slide the cup completely onto the desk and as she withdrew her hand to turn toward her briefcase, it shifted, spilling the hot contents over a corner of Jim's desk and onto the floor. "Oh, _no_," she said, rising quickly and dabbing at the splatters on her skirt. "How clumsy! I'm _so sorry_," Diana watched out of the corner of her eye as Jim leapt from his seat and quickly came around the desk to retrieve some of the napkins from the package Barbara had brought with her on Friday evening. When his back was turned, she quickly grabbed the Gia folder from his desk while deftly reaching into her briefcase for the altered file. She slipped the original into her case and slid the front cover of the new one under the desk corner still dripping with coffee. As Jim turned back, she was dabbing the cover of the folder with a tissue. "What a _klutz_," Diana said, looking up at him. "I _am _sorry."

Jim shook his head, mopping up his desk and then squatting down to blot the carpet. "Don't worry about it. No permanent damage done." He stood up and gestured toward the folder. "Is the file ok?"

Diana nodded. "Yes, I don't believe it was close enough to pick up anything but splatters on the cover," she said to him, making a show of looking through the documents. "It's fine."

Jim excused himself and stepped outside to ask Clare to leave a note for the cleaners, explaining what had happened and asking them to do a more thorough cleaning that evening. When he returned, Diana had the folder propped up on her side of his desk and her notepad and pen ready to go. "Shall we begin?" she asked. At his nod, she waited for him to settle before continuing.

"Before we start really digging into the testimony we need, let's just refresh for a minute. Carlo Gia is responsible for about half of all the drug trafficking trade in and out of Gotham, which makes his conviction particularly compelling. What makes it particularly _challenging_ is the fact that he appears to be operating separately from any of the major crime families on the East Coast."

Jim nodded. "We won't be gaining multiple convictions on this one," he affirmed.

Diana continued. "No. Originally, we thought he might have had connections with one of the Chicago syndicates, but we were wrong. We contacted the Feds who were already following the money trail; that's not the piece of testimony you'll be dealing with. I'll be calling you to detail the entire undercover sting operation Major Crimes put in place."

"I've heard rumblings about your 'non-existent' Chicago syndicate connection," Jim said quietly. "It's my understanding that the Feds weren't so sure that Gia wasn't connected, somehow, to one of the Chicago crime families."

Diana felt her heart rate pick up at Jim's comment. So, the newly installed Commissioner had connections, did he? She wondered briefly if Jim's sources were better placed or – God forbid – higher up the food chain than were her own. "Well, I wouldn't put much faith in 'rumblings', Jim. You should know better than to take rumors seriously." _There. Just the right mixture of skepticism and dismissal._

Jim shook his head. "I'm not one to believe idle gossip; _you _should know that," he paused when Diana's head lifted at his comment and she stared at him. "But if you think about it, this particular story has some degree of plausibility. A year or so ago, Gia was a small time operator. He was a dealer – a lone wolf. He was slippery as hell and any time we arrested him, it was for penny-ante possession. He made bail, pled guilty, did a couple of months – if any time at all – and was back out on the streets. Then, all of a sudden, he's big-time. He's got half of the heroin trade in and out of Gotham and absolutely no cash could be traced to him. Yeah, the Feds are following the money, but they can't seem to tie it into anyone here. All roads lead _out _of Gotham."

Diana could feel her skin become clammy as she listened. She had been out of touch with Jim for a long time. He had been a good detective when they were both working in Chicago; she wished she could read him as easily now as she did then. _How much did he actually _know_, she wondered to herself. Are you just casting your line to see what you might catch, Commissioner? _"Well, I don't think we can really afford to speculate on where the roads lead _to_, do you? Gia goes on trial on Friday and we need to prepare for the case we _have_, not the case we _think_ the Feds might be developing. Your sting put Gia at the scene of a significant heroin shipment. At the docks. On the evening it was received. He didn't send anyone to take possession of it. Gia did it himself. Focus on _that_, because _that's_ what's going to get us our conviction."

Jim's eyebrows rose in surprise at the vehemence of her response. _What was happening here? _"Diana, think about it. Gia was _never _the guy up front in anything this big. He started out as a small-time drug dealer and handled the front-end business himself until he got bigger. Once that happened, he went behind the scenes; he started to put together his _own_ organization. When we hit the docks that night, we expected to collar some of his soldiers, but nothing more than that. Instead_, _we got _him_. He was _alone_, but maybe it wasn't by choice. Maybe he _is _taking orders from someone else. You said it yourself, '_all roads lead _out _of Gotham_'. Diana, if we can show where the roads lead _to_, this has the potential to lead to significant arrests. Listen, it might make some sense to pitch a deal to Gia's lawyer – in exchange for information and testimony about his connections. We could deal a lasting blow to the drug trade in Gotham and…"

Diana closed the file, capped her pen and placed both in her briefcase, her movements deliberate. She was grateful that Jim seemed stunned by her actions; it probably meant he had missed how badly her hands were shaking. _You're better than I gave you credit for, Jim_, she thought to herself. _But I'm calling the shots here._

"Diana? What are you…"

"We have a trial to prepare; a complex trial. Your testimony is critical to our ability to convict this bastard. When you can pull your head out of your ass and are ready to seriously prepare for your appearance in court, you call me. If I don't hear from you by end of day tomorrow, I'll have no choice but to ask Garcia to intervene. I have _no_ time for this, Jim. We have a solid case against Gia for receipt and intent to sell heroin – a lot of it - enough to send him away for a very long time." Diana turned and crossed the room, heading for the door.

"Diana, _wait_!" Jim was on his feet when Diana stopped but did not turn around. When he reached her, she still refused to look at him, anger rolling off her in waves. Jim grasped her arm. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Diana shook off his hand. "Let go of me," she replied, her voice rising as she finally turned to face him. "I am sick and tired of being second-guessed," she continued. "You would do well to remember who is in charge here, _Commissioner_. I am the interim D.A. _You _are a cop – a highly placed cop, but a _cop_, nonetheless. Cases will be prosecuted according to what _I _deem to be the best plan. I will not tolerate interference – from you or anyone else. The investigation into Carlo Gia has been completed, he's been arrested and he's due to stand trial on Friday. You are not authorized to do anything further with _my _case, Commissioner. Your last task in connection with Carlo Gia will be your testimony in open court."

Jim felt confusion turn to anger as he listened to the now irate woman before him. When she finally finished speaking, there was a moment of silence before he replied. "The last time I checked, _Counselor_, Mayor Garcia called the shots in this city. I take my orders from him." Jim paused. "_And so do you._ So let's stop the grandstanding, all right? I also think – as you _used _to – that if there are questionable areas in a case that can't be answered, there might be more than meets the eye. And _yes_, I would very much like to pursue those questionable areas to see what other arrests might be possible. For now, however, I am willing to simply consider it a plausible theory that Gia's attorney might very easily throw into his cross-examination. If he can discredit us to find some loophole for his client, he will do it. Let's keep it in mind as we prepare for trial, shall we?"

Diana stood there, breathing heavily, unwilling to concede her rage in the face of Jim's own anger. Her anger was a strong façade that covered her nerves. Despite his words, Jim had done nothing to alleviate her suspicion that he could very well know more about Gia's connections than he let on. Cursing him – and herself – silently, Diana decided to return to the task at hand. If she could keep up appearances and control herself, perhaps Jim might put her fears to rest _or _reveal the source of his comments about Gia's connections. _That _information would be vital to the Colletti's – and would only more firmly secure her own future with them.

"Fine," she said, turning back to her chair. "Let's keep it in mind. But no more talking in circles. We prepare for trial. If you know something that would potentially give us a problem in court, you tell me – and you give me _details_ so that I can be ready for it. I hate surprises. Agreed?"

Jim stared at the back of her head for a moment, lost in thought. When he did not immediately respond, Diana turned toward him. "Are we _agreed_?" she asked again.

Jim shook himself from his thoughts and nodded as he made his way back to his desk. As he reclaimed his chair he spoke. "Agreed."

XXXXXXXX

At 6 pm, Jim threw his glasses on his desk and rubbed at his eyes, tiredly. He and Diana had worked a full day and had, finally, finished prepping his testimony. She had taken a list of follow-up items with her; they wouldn't meet again until Wednesday to allow her to do the crosschecking she needed to resolve them. Wednesday would be devoted to preparing as best they could for Gia's lawyer's cross-examination. Jim could only hope Wednesday wasn't as fractious as today had been.

"You rang, Boss?" Gerry Stephens' casual greeting rang through Jim's office, affirming the new Commissioner's decision to maintain his office at the refurbished Major Crimes Unit instead of moving into the more plush surroundings at City Hall. He would miss the bustle at MCU, that went without saying. He would, however, also miss his friend.

Jim smiled and replaced his glasses. "Got a minute?"

Gerry sat down in the chair so recently vacated by the interim D.A. He sniffed the air, his face screwing up in disgust. "Barbara know you're wearing her cologne?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Very funny. The D. A. was here all day."

Gerry nodded. "Must be. You know, Jimmy, we didn't have these problems with Dent. I sort of miss him, you know?" His eyes twinkled.

Jim chuckled. "Gerry, I need to ask something of you and it needs to stay between us, ok?"

Gerry instantly sobered. "Anything, Jim. You know that. What's up?"

"Carlo Gia. You know the case as well as I do."

Gerry nodded. "One of our best operations. Wait – don't tell me the case is going south after all that work?"

Jim shook his head. "No, it's fine. The trial starts on Friday."

"Then what's the problem?"

Jim took a deep breath. "I want you to think back. Is there anything about Gia that stands out to you as odd?"

Gerry sat back in his chair and was silent for several long moments. Finally, his eyes met Jim's. "Yeah, there is, as a matter of fact. There's something that's been sort of bothering me since he made bail."

Jim lifted his chin as an indication that the detective should continue.

"What's a dealer like Gia doing taking his own deliveries? Where were the soldiers? The buffers?"

Jim nodded, a small smile on his lips. "Anything else?"

"_Yeah_. Where the hell's the _money_?"

"Been asking myself the same question."

"The D.A. have any ideas?" Gerry wanted to know.

Jim shook his head, his brow furrowing. "Doesn't seem to. In fact, she damn near took my head off for suggesting that the Feds just might have been wrong about the money trail."

It was Gerry's turn to look confused. "But wouldn't tracking the money to someone else help fill her conviction quota? If she could tie Gia to some bigger operation, she could get her hooks into some pretty big fish."

"Yeah, you'd have thought so, wouldn't you? She told me that I needed to '_get my head out of my ass_' and focus on the case we _had _instead of the case the Feds _might _be putting together," Jim smiled wryly at his friend.

"Want me to look into it?" Gerry offered.

Jim nodded, handing Gerry the Gia file. "Quietly and without sticking your neck out too far. We've got the same connections you and I. Pay them a few visits. No pressure, nothing hard-core. Let's just see what we can turn up without breaking a sweat, ok?"

"Ok, Boss. I'll get working on it tomorrow," Gerry rose from his seat. "Wanna grab a beer before heading home?"

Jim shook his head. "I'll take a rain check, though. If I hurry, I can make it home for dinner."

Gerry smiled. "I get it. Janie won't know what to do with herself if I actually show up for dinner!" The two men shared another smile before Gerry turned serious again. "You know something, Jimmy? Showing up on your doorstep and having to tell that woman that you'd been killed was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I knew why you were doing it, but even I was pissed off at you when I saw her face. I'm glad you're taking the time away from here to be with her – and the kids. When I finally made it home that night, Janie told me that it's never going to be perfect here in Gotham. If we wait to spend time with our families until it is, we cheat them – and ourselves. All they'll have left is the flag and the pension; no memories of us to look back on. "

Jim squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Smart wife you've got there," he said quietly. "For the record, I hated doing that to her – and to the kids. But I just couldn't…"

"…take any chances with their safety. Yeah, I know. In your shoes, I'd probably have done the same thing. Still stinks, though. What it does to them."

Jim nodded. "Come on. Let's go home and shock the hell out of them. While we can. Before all hell breaks loose and we can't do it for weeks at a time."

"Whatever you say, Jimmy. You're the boss," Gerry agreed, grinning as the two friends walked toward the open office door and crossed to the elevators.

XXXXXXXX

As Diana reached the door to her townhouse, she heard the phone begin to ring on the other side. Hurrying, she unlocked the door, withdrew her key and slammed it shut behind her. Kicking off her heels, she hurried to the phone, picking it up and murmuring a breathless 'hello' into the mouthpiece.

"I was just about to hang up," Marco's deep voice came through the phone.

Diana took a deep breath. "I'm glad you didn't," she managed, settling herself on the sofa. "How was your flight?"

"Lonely," he replied. "How was your day?"

Diana knew what he meant. "Productive. I was a bit clumsy with a cup of coffee in Gordon's office this morning."

Marco chortled in her ear. "Any casualties?"

"You might say that. I had to pull a fresh file from my briefcase for the Commissioner's perusal."

"Did he see anything?" All traces of humor were gone from the man's voice.

Diana sighed. "_No_, Marco. I made the switch while he was mopping up the carpet. He hadn't even opened up the file."

"That's my girl," Diana could hear Marco's smirk in his voice. "Dad will be very pleased that things are going so well for us."

Diana smiled. _That's right; you keep Colletti, Sr. happy, Marco, while I make sure Jim Gordon stays in line … and out of things that don't concern him. _

"You still there, doll?"

"Yes, I'm still here. It's been a long day and I still have a couple of hours of work ahead of me tonight," she replied. "I'll talk with you Friday night, after the trial opens, ok?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Marco said. "I don't suppose there's any way you'd let me come up there this weekend. You know, give you a couple days of stress relief?"

Diana rolled her eyes. "Well, that depends. Do you want Gia convicted? I can't afford any distractions, Marco. I'll need to work through the weekend. Remember what your father said: Gia's become a liability. A conviction works for all of us, doesn't it?"

Marco sighed. "Yeah, ok. I see your point. I'll stay put this weekend."

"Marco, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, baby. What do you want?"

"Anthony Morello. Is he out of the picture now?" Diana tapped her finger on the arm of the sofa as she waited for his answer. _Tell me he's safe somewhere. Tell me he's not easily accessible to anyone. _Diana was still not convinced that Gordon wasn't connected enough to have found out about him.

"Why are you asking?" Marco sounded suspicious.

"No particular reason. You have been so concerned about him being linked to this case. I knew you were having a problem locating him so I just naturally wondered if you'd found him." _If Gordon knows anything, Morello needs to be out of the way for a while. _Diana had no doubt that if Jim found the man, he'd turn him.

Marco's grim chuckle preceded his response. "Yeah, we found him. Don't worry about a thing, baby; no one's going to bother him. He's safe – from everyone."

Diana shivered, suddenly wanting to end the conversation. "Well, then. I guess I won't worry, will I?" She was surprised at the calm in her voice.

"Nah, no point. Good luck on Friday. I'll tell Dad that we're on track; Gia's as good as convicted."

_You do that_, Diana thought to herself as she pressed the 'off' button on the handset.

XXXXXXXX

Jim pulled into the driveway to the familiar sight of Maggie sitting on the top step of the porch. What _wasn't _familiar was the notable absence of Maggie's usual exuberance. She just sat - elbows on her knees, her chin resting in her small hands. Jim ran his eyes over the small form of his daughter and noticed nothing visibly, physically wrong.

Approaching the steps, he called out to her. "Hey, Maggie-mine. Not going to make me catch you tonight? No twirling?" He put his briefcase on the lower step as he waited to see if she'd change her mind.

The little girl shook her head sadly. "I don't feel like twirling tonight, Daddy."

Jim picked up his briefcase and climbed the steps. Once he'd reached where she sat, he pushed the briefcase against the railing and sat down beside his daughter. "Hmm. I don't think you've ever not felt like twirling. What's up, sweetheart?"

To his chagrin, a fat tear rolled down the little girl's pink cheek and splashed against her fingers. "My friend, Anna Maria, moved away," she sniffed.

Jim leaned over and put his arm around her shoulders and Maggie responded by crawling onto his lap. He kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Maggie. It's hard when our friends go away. But you can write letters to each other maybe. And talk on the phone sometime, couldn't you?" At this, Maggie cried harder, so Jim just held her tightly to him and let her get it out of her system. After a few minutes, she pulled back and looked at him and Jim's heart went out to her as he saw her pink eyes and the tear tracks that were drying on her face. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped her face gently, then held it to her nose. "Blow," he said quietly and she did so. "There. Now, tell me the rest," he urged.

Maggie took a deep breath. "I can't write to her and I can't call her. She can't tell me where she's going. Her mommy won't let her. They're just moving away." With that, she leaned her face against his chest again and Jim rubbed her back for a few minutes more. As they sat together, he wracked his brain to try to remember if Barbara had mentioned this little girl to him at all. He sighed. If she had, he didn't recall.

"Come on, Maggie-mine. Let's go inside and see what Mommy has for supper, ok? Then, maybe we can figure something out."

Maggie nodded and stood next to him on the step. Jim rose, picked her up and leaned down to gather his briefcase and raincoat from the floor. He smiled when he felt his daughter kiss his cheek. "I love you, Daddy," she said.

"I love you, too," he replied, turning to tickle her neck with his mustache. _This part of the routine is still intact tonight_, he mused, smiling again.

Once inside, he greeted his son and made his way into the kitchen.

"Hey, Commissioner," Barbara greeted him, giving him a quick hug and kiss. She stepped back and looked down at his tie. "I'm going to guess that you either met your very soggy daughter on the front porch or you've started drooling in your old age."

Jim smacked her behind lightly. " 'Old age,' huh? You weren't complaining about my age this weekend," he said, kissing her lightly.

Barbara laughed softly. "I wasn't complaining about too much this weekend. It was fabulous. Two whole days," she sighed. "I could get used to it."

Jim nodded. "Me, too. Listen, what's going on with Maggie and this friend of hers, Ann – Annie…"

"Anna Maria," Barbara supplied. At Jim's nod, she continued. "They had their weekly play date and today it was here. They'd been drawing pictures for about a half hour when the doorbell rang and Anna Maria's mother was standing there, saying that she was here to pick her up. She said that they were moving away. I asked for her address and she became very agitated, saying she wasn't sure – _then _that she couldn't tell me. It was all very strange. She spoke with her daughter for a few minutes. The little girl was very upset, understandably, but she went along with her mother without a great deal of fuss. Maggie told me afterward that Anna Maria had told her that she couldn't give her a new address or phone number."

Jim shook his head. "Do I know this family? Have I met them?"

Barbara had turned back to the stove to check on dinner. "Umm, I don't think so. They haven't been here very long, but the little girls became attached pretty quickly. Sweet little thing. I'm not sure what the father does. He's out of town a lot."

"What's the name?" Jim called from the hallway, opening the closet door and grabbing a hanger for his coat. His hand froze in mid-air when Barbara's voice called back to him.

"Morello."


End file.
